Wishes
by coffeelovingCali
Summary: [AU] Ross & Rachel fic. A fairytale love too good to be true. One tragedy that changed everything. Can one boy's wishes make a difference to change the course of destiny? CHAPTER 11 NOW UP!
1. Prologue

A/N:  The characters you see on TV, obviously, are not mine.  

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Wishes 

_prologue_

He set up the camera the same way his father had always set it up.  He adjusted the tripod until he found the chair to focus on.  Satisfied with the angle, he slid down the stool that added at least a foot to his 4 feet 4 inches tall frame and ran to the chair in focus.  He counted, and at the count of three, he pressed the record button in the small remote control and smiled before the camera.

"Hi.  My name is James Russell Geller and tonight we're going to find out if wishes really come true."  His demeanor was serious, and his dark brown eyes showed a fierce determination, stubbornness, that had predominantly marked his personality in all his seven years.

He is just like his Daddy, people had always said.  Proud and predominantly stubborn is his character, and what consequently earned him the title, 'Little Ross.'  He had always insisted that he took after his mother, but even she agreed that he is an exact replica of his father both in appearance and personality.  His growing love for science is the final straw to convince everybody that he is, indeed, a 'Little Ross.'

Careful not to make much noise, lest he got busted for taking his Daddy's camera without his permission, James kept his voice low until it was barely over a whisper.  "And our accomplice for tonight is none other than the star of all seasons, Starlight Starly," he continued as he held up a faded star that looked like a Christmas décor.

It was.

It was the same treetop decoration he specifically picked to top their Christmas tree three years ago, but the same one that never made it to the top.  Nevertheless, it was the star that kept his hopes up throughout the years, and the same one that had kept him believing that wishes-upon-a-star do come true.  It was an unusual star to be wishing upon, being the fake star that it was, but being the young and stubborn little boy he was, James made Starly work for him.  Who was to say that Starly couldn't make his wishes come true?  He cast wishes on Starly before and his wishes came true.

Tonight, however, James needed Starlight Starly to prove herself again.  Tonight would determine whether he'd become a better believer tomorrow or whether he'd lose faith in that whimsical childhood idea.

The sudden slamming of the door caused James to jump out of his seat.  Soon, his little sister, his unpredictable four-year old little sister, Emma, came careening into his bedroom, clutching the cordless phone with her pudgy hands.  She was already clad in her angel costume that she would be wearing for the community Christmas program that they were both participating in, but her honey-blonde curls were still a messy tumble on top of her head.

"James," Emma called to her older brother, her tiny voice urgent as she handed her brother the phone.  "Call Aunt Monica.  I'm an angel for the play and Daddy don't know how to fix my hair!"

"Sheesh, Ems!" James exclaimed, clutching his chest as if his heart would jump out of his ribcage.  "Can't you knock?  You scared the crap out of me!"

"Daddy said it's bad to say crap," Emma reprimanded her older brother.  "Crap and dammit, because those words are only for Uncle Joey…"  Her voice trailed when James ran past her and hurriedly shut the door closed.  Immediately, she noticed the camera in the middle of the room.  She covered her mouth with her hands and gasped loudly.  "Oh no!  James!  Why do you have Daddy's camera?  Daddy's gonna get mad…"

James stood behind his talkative little sister and immediately covered her mouth with his hand before she attracted their father's attention.  Of course, he knew he would suffer his father's wrath if he found out that he took the camera, but that was why he was trying to keep his voice down to keep it a secret.  "Ssshh!" he sternly commanded the little girl who was struggling to get his hand off her mouth.  "I am going to return it later.  I'm just borrowing it for my research," he reassured before Emma could tell on him, which he was sure she would.

Emma had always done that in the past, which was why James often wished that Emma never learned how to talk properly.  His life used to be peaceful, but when Emma started talking clearly, his tell-all sister always got him into trouble with his Daddy.  It was annoying, really; but despite that, he loves his little sister.

"Why?" Emma demanded when she managed to free herself from her brother, her deep blue eyes full of curiosity.

"Because I'm making a documentary!" James explained in a whisper.

Emma wrinkled her brow.  "A what?"

James shook his head.  His sister would never understand what a documentary is.  Emma is four, and all she wants is dressing up her Barbie dolls.  "A documentary…you know, the shows that Daddy always make us watch on the Discovery Channel?"

"The dinosaurs?" Emma asked incredulously.

"No…It doesn't have to be always about dinosaurs," James patiently explicated.  "It can be about anything.  At least, that's what Daddy told me…"

"Like Sesame Street?"  Emma pressed curiously.

"Sure."  James shrugged his shoulders.  Who cares anyway what Emma thought what a documentary is?  He never learned what it was until he was six.

Before James could say another word, Emma ran in front of the camera and waved and smiled.  "Hi, My name is Emma.  Today we're going to sing ABC," she said gaily in front of the camera, much to her brother's chagrin.

James immediately pressed the red button to stop the tape.  "Emma, c'mon.  Just leave.  You're holding me up here…"

"What are you doing?" Emma demanded whiningly.  She obviously wanted to be part of her big brother's 'play' but he was not letting her.

James scratched his head.  He was already getting a little impatient, but he knew he couldn't yell at his sister and make her cry because that would only make their Daddy go to his room.  "I'm going to make a wish, okay?"

"A wish?" Emma innocently repeated.  "Why?"

"Because I want to wish that Mommy will come home so she can live with you, me, and Daddy again," James replied.  "I miss her.  Don't you?"

"But Mommy lives in Italy…" Emma pointed out.

"I know that!" James snapped.  "That's why I said I want to wish that she will come home."

"But Daddy said Mommy will not come home anymore because he has a girlfriend…" Emma continued.

James sighed, growing impatient by the second.  "Kids!" he mumbled as if he wasn't a kid himself.  "Well, if you don't stop asking questions Carrie will become our new mommy.  Do you want that?"

Emma winced at the thought.  "No," she said slowly, shaking her head.  "I already have a mommy and that's Mommy."  She sighed, her face pensive momentarily.  "Is Daddy really going to make Carrie our new mommy?" she asked worriedly.

"He might if I don't make this wish," James replied as a matter-of factly.

Emma pulled a gagging face, a trick she learned from her older brother.  "Eww!  I don't like Carrie…"

"I know.  Me too," James agreed, making the same gagging face.  "That's why I'm going to wish so hard that Mommy will come home tonight."

"Will that make Mommy come home?" Emma wondered out loud.

"I don't know," James replied truthfully.  "That's why I'm making a documentary so I'll know if wishes come true."

"A what?" Emma asked again in the same incredulous tone when she heard the word 'documentary' for the first time.

James shook his head.  "Never mind…"

Without even bothering to shoo his sister away, James pulled the low stool next to the chair Emma was occupying and sat there.  "We don't have time so, let's just do this together.  It might work better anyway if there's two of us wishing hard for it."

Emma grinned excitedly, eager that her brother finally let her join him in whatever he was doing.  "Okay, what will I do?" she asked enthusiastically.

James rolled his eyes.  "Just sit and look pretty," he told her.

"Okay!"  Emma couldn't care less that that was all she was going to do.  As long as she could be in her big brother's game, she was happy.

On the count of three, James had the camera rolling again.  After a long pause, he smiled.  "Hi, I'm James Russell Geller," he introduced in front of the camera.  He paused again, waiting for his sister to introduce herself.  When Emma did no such thing, he nudged her arm and whispered, "You're supposed to say your name…"

"Huh?" Emma was baffled at first, but when she finally caught on what her brother asked her to do, she turned her biggest, cutest smile and flashed it in front of the camera.  "My name is Emma."

James cleared his throat before continuing.  "Tonight, we're going to find out if Starlight Starly will grant our wish.  I've made many wishes before, but this one wish, Starly won't give me.  I have been a good boy.  Really.  I've been stubborn and I believed, but Starly still won't give me my wish.  So tonight, I'm going to make a wish again."  He took a deep breath and took his 'star' and held it close to his chest.  As per ritual, he closed his eyes and sent his wishes with Starly.  "Dear, dear Starly.  Please make Mommy come home because me and Emma miss her so much!  Please, please make it happen.  I'm stubborn.  I believe…"

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	2. Wishes 1

**Wishes**

one

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"James!"

At the sound of his mother's voice, James jumped from the stool, pushed the stool back into the big walk-in pantry, shut the door closed, and ran back to the table where his mother had left him and his sister ten minutes ago.  He hurried to sit back on his chair, but it was a struggle for his fist was chock-full of the gummy candy bears that he had been 'smuggling' from the pantry without either of his parents' knowledge.  If his Mommy and Daddy found out about the sneaky little ways that he has been engaging in before dinner, he was sure he would get an earful.  Thankfully, Emma was only one-year old, so she couldn't tell on him.  Not just yet…although he could see in her face that she wanted to.

"Ssshhh!" James whispered to his baby sister when she muttered something to him in her own gibberish baby language.  Sometimes he was afraid that Emma would just find her words and get him busted.  If that happened, then he'd sure be in a lot of trouble.

"Ma!" Emma called loudly upon hearing her mother's footsteps bounding up the stairs from the basement.

"Emma, shush!" James snapped at the toddler.  He sat up straight when he heard the footsteps becoming louder and louder.  "Jingle bells.  Jingle bells.  Jingle all the way…"  He started singing so it wouldn't be too obvious that he was hiding something.

"James, you said you want to choose the decorations for our Christmas tree…"  Rachel trailed, both in words and in path when she noticed that mischievous grin on her four-year old son's face.  Gently, she lowered the box of Christmas decorations that she had brought from the basement, to the floor.  "Okay, what is going on?"  She eyed her children suspiciously, especially James.  He was usually the one who always has something up his sleeve.

"Ma-ma, Jem-Jem…" Emma began, pointing at her older brother as she relayed her account of the 'story' in her own gibberish language.

Rachel arched a brow and trudged closer to her son.  "James?  What did you do?"

James shook his head.  "Nothing…" he replied 'innocently' as he hid his fist behind his back, all the while pulling that cute face at his mother.

"James?  What are you hiding in your hands?"

"Nothing…"

"Can you show Mommy your hands?"

James shook his head.  His smile was slowly fading with each step that his mother took.  He knew he was in trouble; and when his Mommy said his full name, he knew he was in serious, serious, big time trouble.

"James Russell Geller," Rachel crossed her arms over her chest and impatiently tapped her foot.  "I'm waiting…"

James closed his eyes tightly, and ever so slowly, he brought his hand out and opened his fingers one by one.  He was already in trouble, and he knew that if he kept on insisting that he wasn't guilty, he'd only get into bigger trouble.  His Daddy told him to never ever lie.

Rachel brought a hand to her mouth, fighting so hard the urge to laugh.  She couldn't do it.  She simply couldn't make herself scold her children when they were all looking so cute, so adorable, and so guilty.  Even Emma could already pull that same guilty face James had on.

"I didn't eat it!" James defended, hoping that that would pull him out of trouble.  "I was gonna, but…but…you come-d."

"Came," Rachel corrected, pulling a mock-stern face at the boy.

"Mommy, you're not gonna tell Daddy, please?" James begged.

Rachel smiled inwardly and shrugged her shoulders, pretending to think deeply about the boy's request.  "If you promise not to do it again,  then maybe I won't…"

"Okay…"  James took his mother by her word and sighed, feeling much, much more relieved that his Mommy was letting him off easy.  As long as his Daddy doesn't find out, he should be fine.  He always thought his Daddy was a little harder to 'negotiate' with than his Mommy.  

"All right, then give me the gummy candies," Rachel instructed firmly, holding out her palm before her son.

James sighed, a little bummed.  "Okay, but Mommy can I have one?  Just one?  Pleasy-please?"

Rachel smiled and shook her head.  "No," she said firmly.  "Not before dinner…"

"Oh, man!" James grumbled as he poured out the contents of his hand into his mother's open palm.

Rachel giggled and tousled her son's hair.  "Be a good boy now James…You have to be a good example to Emma."

"I _am_ a good sample!" James whined.

"Sure you are."  Rachel laughed.  There was simply nothing more rewarding than to have these little 'conversations' with her children.  James and Emma were so worth every moment she had to spend away from work.  In the beginning, the idea of becoming a stay-at-home-mom was unthinkable, but now that she was one, she couldn't ask for a better and more rewarding 'profession.'  She didn't think she'd even want to go back to work.

"Hey, why don't you look in the box to see what decorations you want for our Christmas tree while I go make the salad for dinner, huh?  What do you say, Jamesy-cuckoo?" Rachel asked the boy.

James loved it whenever his Mommy would call him Jamesy-cuckoo.  It made him feel so loved and important to her, and he was.  "Okay…"  James replied cheerfully, grinning from ear to ear.

"Ma!" Emma called out, not wanting to be left out of any activity her brother would do.

"You want to help too, Ems?" Rachel cooed as she lifted the toddler from her highchair.

Emma giggled when her mother placed her on the floor.  Happily, she crawled after her big brother.

Rachel grinned affectionately as she watched her youngest crawl away.  "Sweetie, you have to try walking again," she told the toddler who didn't seem to care one bit that she was still crawling.  Emma had tried walking several times before, but after falling flat on her butt nearly every time she did so, she just stopped trying again.  "In due time," Ross assured her when Rachel expressed her concern that Emma should now be walking at her 15th month since James took his first steps even before he turned one-year old.

Rachel sighed and then proceeded to make the salad, which was probably the only thing she could whip up in her kitchen in addition to the TV dinners she would often toss in the microwave and Emma's ready-to-eat instant cereal that just needed hot water to begin with.  She might have a big kitchen, equipped with the best appliances and gadgets there were, but she simply didn't know how to use them well.  It wasn't like she never tried; she did—several times, in fact.  But after serving Ross and their children countless burnt meals, she stopped trying altogether.  That's what take-out foods are for.

"Mommy, I want this star!"  James called out from the nook area.

Rachel stepped back and took a peek at James' decoration of choice.  "What star?" she asked.

"This," James stood up and held up a plain gold-plaited star.

It wasn't that she didn't respect her child's choice, but the décor James chose was hideously unattractive.  It was plain, it was gold-plaited, and most of all, it looked cheap.  Rachel didn't even realize that she had kept that treetop decoration along with the other Christmas ornaments.  She and Ross swore that they would hide that gift, which one of Ross's 'unique' aunt gave to them on their first Christmas as a married couple, to a place where no one would ever see it…forever.  It was _that_ ugly.

Rachel cleared her throat and smiled weakly.  "Are you sure, honey?  I mean, we have other decorations that would look…a little nicer on top of the tree…"

"I want this one!" James determinedly announced.

"Really?" Rachel grimaced.

The sound of the front door opening interrupted their conversation, and soon, Ross's "I'm home!" holler was heard along with his approaching footsteps.

At the sound of her father's voice, Emma gave a squeal and clapped her hands excitedly.  The girl absolutely adored her father.  "Dadddsss!"  Slurring and spitting finished off what Rachel could only assume as Emma's own way of saying the word 'Daddy.'

James was equally excited about his father's arrival, and before long, he was running out in the hallway to meet him with Emma crawling close behind.

Ross appeared in the kitchen a few seconds later with Emma in his arms and James clinging tightly around his leg.  "Ahh…It's always so nice to come home after a long hard day's labor with this kind of warm welcome," he commented cheerfully.  He was tired from work, but not too tired to spend some quality time with his family.  He always had.

"Hey you…" Rachel greeted her husband of five years with a firm kiss on the lips.  "How was your day?" she asked, taking the white bag of takeout dinner from Ross's hand.  Ross had always brought home their dinner.  He didn't seem to mind that at all, and Rachel was certainly glad that he didn't care.  She has heard a dozen of stories of men complaining about how their wives couldn't feed them properly, but fortunately, her husband was not one of them.  She would have been so damned if he were.

"Oh, the same…busy all day, grading papers, faculty meetings, court hearings, briefings…"  Ross shrugged his shoulders, summarizing his activities as a lawyer and a part-time professor at NYU.  "How was yours?"

Rachel shrugged.  "Just the same…although I did try to bake some chocolate-chip cookies earlier…"

"And?" Ross seemed amused, and his smile showed it all.

"What do you mean 'and'?" Rachel rebutted laughingly.  "Of course, it turned out…not too well…"  Her last words were barely audible that Ross just lost it and laughed at her face.

"And that's why Pepperidge Farm makes them," Ross joked.

"I'm a terrible cook!" Rachel whined.  "I can't even cook for my own family!"

Ross laughed.  "Actually, cooking is different from baking…"

Rachel rolled her eyes.  "Ahhh!  What's the difference?  I can't do either!"

James tugged at his Mommy's leg and joined in the conversation.  "It's okay mommy.  We still love you…"

Ross tilted Rachel's chin and affectionately smiled at her.  "It's okay sweetie…I didn't marry you for your culinary skills.  In fact, I wouldn't have married you at all if it were for that," he teased.

Rachel rolled her eyes and playfully slapped Ross in the arm.  "Thanks!" she said sarcastically.  "I'm glad my husband thinks so!  But you know, if only I had known that you'd make me watch the Discovery Channel with you every night, I wouldn't have married you either…"

Ross chuckled as he carried his children over to the breakfast nook where they usually ate their meals.  He loved to tease Rachel.  He loved to watch every single one of her reaction to every joke and teasing he would throw at her.  "I love you, sweetie…" he called over his shoulder.

Rachel smiled and shook her head as she proceeded to empty the takeout boxes into dinner plates.  Their family was not exactly perfect, but they could live with each other's flaws.  In a way, that made their life seemingly 'perfect.'  How else could one explain that she didn't have anything more to wish for?

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Holding a mug of warm tea in her hands, Rachel curled up on the overstuffed chair by the large floor-to-ceiling window and quietly revered the warm, exhilarating dance of the Christmas lights against the snow-blanketed front lawn outside.  Hundreds of tiny bright lights blinked, flickered, changed color, and chased one another, creating a nice festive glow against the dark night as they adorned the holiday lawn decors.  Rachel sighed, letting herself sink in the warm, fuzzy feelings that the holidays had always stirred in her.

Nighttimes were her quiet moments, and she loved the times that she could just sit back with nice cup of warm tea, relax, and reflect on how blessed her day had been.

She was blessed…in so many ways.  She was blessed with two beautiful children, and she was even more fortunate that she was raising them with the world's best husband and father.  Ross was way beyond her expectations for a husband, a friend, and father to their children.  He was, to say the least, amazing.

Every morning, before he would go to work, Ross would fulfill his fatherly duties to James by taking the boy out for a bikeride, and lately, since the snow had already fallen, for a quick walk around their neighborhood.  No matter how busy he was, he would make it a priority to spend time with his son.

For the rest of the day, he would step in his role as the responsible breadwinner of the family, working ever so diligently in his offices, one with a law firm and the other at NYU where he taught what he was really interested in: paleontology.  Being the sole provider, he worked really hard to provide his family a more than comfortable lifestyle.  Rachel felt really bad that Ross was the only one working, but every time she would suggest that she start working again, Ross would just smile and tell her that he could still handle everything, that James and Emma were at the age where it would be beneficial for them to always have her around.  Still, she wanted to help him.  Ross had always liked teaching, but somehow he just got stuck with practicing law because that brought in more income than teaching alone.  Ross had the background education for both professions; he just liked teaching better than law, which was why he just couldn't drop the class he was teaching at NYU.

During the evenings, responsible Ross would resume his role as the considerate husband to Rachel, letting her have her 'breaks' from being a full-time mommy while he put James and, of course, little Emma to sleep.  Emma loved her evenings with her Daddy.  Ross pampered her so much that the girl usually wouldn't sleep unless she was in her Daddy's arms.  Rachel always had to remind Ross not to make their daughter get used to such pampering because she would be the one to suffer if Emma cried all night looking for her 'Dadddsss' if Ross had to work late nights at the firm.  Nevertheless, Ross didn't seem to be bothered, promising Rachel that she wouldn't have to worry about Emma crying all night because he would always be home before her bedtime.  So far, he has been faithfully coming home on time though his commute was a lot longer than when they used to live in the city.  This didn't really surprise Rachel anymore.  Ross had always kept his promise.

Rachel sighed and glanced around the living room of the home Ross had 'promised' he'd be able to able to afford 'one of these days' from day 30 of their marriage.  Though the 'one of these days' didn't come until five years later, Ross did fulfill his promise.  They moved in to their fairly large and very beautiful home outside the city just this past fall, and after only 45 more payments, the bank could never make them move out of it again.

Rachel loved their new home.  She loved everything about it: the airy rooms, the tall windows, the spacious backyard, the roomy basement, fantastic view of the night sky that the balcony afforded them outside her and Ross's bedroom…everything.  Most importantly, she loved what the new house represented: new hope, new memories.

She and Ross were really excited about their first year in their new home.  Both of them wanted to make this first Christmas there a very memorable one.  Ross suggested that now that they're settled, it's time to establish their very own family traditions.  Rachel had a big laugh about it.  "We're slowly becoming like one of those old, mushy, sentimental couples, aren't we?" she joked just last week as they were setting up the lights she was now watching outside the window.  Nonetheless, as much as she laughed at the thought, Rachel was really more than thrilled to start new 'family traditions' with Ross.  She was already looking forward to the many wonderful memories they would build in that house.

With her mug now finally empty, Rachel picked herself up and pushed the overstuffed chair to the wall.  She wanted to set up the Christmas tree by the window.  With a small smile of satisfaction, she switched off the lamp and headed to the kitchen.  Out of a habit she had developed recently, she glanced out the kitchen window to catch a glimpse of the stars outside while washing her mug.  Living in the suburbs had since made her realize that stars do exist after all.  Well, she knew that stars exist, but she didn't really get to see them a lot when she was living in the city.

After depositing her mug to dry on the dish rack, Rachel tiptoed upstairs.  Quietly, she went in to James's bedroom and found him still wide-awake, sitting by the foot of his bed, glancing wistfully out the window.

"Jamesy-cuckoo, why are you still up?" she asked the boy as she sat next to him.

"I'm looking for a big, bright star."  James yawned, forcing his eyes open as he searched the night sky for the biggest, brightest star it has.

Rachel arched an eyebrow and smiled.  "Why?"

"Because Daddy read to me Pinocchio and Pinocchio has a wishing star and his wish came true so I want to have a wishing star like him," James explained without pausing.  "You know, for my wishes…I just want to find out if wishes come true…"  He glanced up at his mother.  "Mommy, is it true if you make a wish on a star, it will come true?"

Rachel shrugged her shoulders.  "I guess if you believe really hard that it would then it just might…"

"So can I make a wish on this star?" James asked curiously, pulling out from under his bed the 'ugly' Christmas tree topper that he picked earlier.

"But that's not even a real star," Rachel pointed out, giggling.

"Oh, it has to be a real star?" James asked innocently.  He looked out the dark skies through the window.  "But there are no stars out!" he whined when he didn't find what he was looking for.  Pinocchio did make a wish on a 'real' star, but he thought his 'star' of choice was still a star nonetheless.  So, what could possibly be the difference?

"What are you talking about?" Rachel asked, tilting her head to the side to catch a better view of the night sky.  She could have sworn she saw some stars when she looked out the kitchen window just a few minutes ago.  "See, there are lots of stars out there…"  She pointed to a few, but James still wasn't satisfied.

"They're not big and bright," James stubbornly mumbled, toying with the 'star' in his hand.  "This one is..."

"Then, maybe you should wait until a real big and bright star appears," Rachel replied, smiling tenderly.

"Nah…" James shrugged his shoulders.

Rachel chuckled and shook her head.  "You're really going to insist on wishing on your fake star, aren't you?"

"There are no stars out!" James stubbornly pointed out.  He let out an exasperated sigh and rolled his eyes.

Rachel opened her arms and pulled her son into a tight embrace.  She knew there was no point in arguing with the boy.  The look of determination in the boy's eyes was so fierce, and James was, after all, a stubborn Geller.  "You know you are so stubborn just like your Daddy!  I don't know why you want that plain star when we have three other much nicer ones to choose from…"  Rachel squeezed her son, tickling his round tummy while showering kisses all over his head.

"Mommy, no tickle please!"  James laughed as he wriggled free from his mother's embrace.  "And my star's pretty."

After a while, Rachel stopped the tickling, and both mother and son sat in comfortable silence as they tried to catch their breaths.  "Mommy, what's stubborn mean?"

"It means, no matter what other people tell you not to do, you still do it anyway because in your head," Rachel explained, touching a finger to James' forehead as the boy listened attentively.  "You think you are right, so you'll keep believing anyway."

"So stubborn people's wishes on stars come true then," the child wisely observed, "because they keep believing…"

Rachel smiled at James' astute observation momentarily, silently wondering how the boy could pull this kind of thing together at such a young age.  Sometimes, she could easily forget that he was only four.  True, James just made an innocent observation based on what she told him; still, one way or another, he did offer Rachel some kind of insight to think about.  "You're a very smart boy, do you know that?"

James grinned proudly.  "I know…Daddy said I'm smart like him."

"Of course…" Rachel smiled weakly.  "But, time to go to sleep…"  She sighed and then picked up her son.  She laid him down on the bed and tucked him in under its warm covers.  "Goodnight, Jamesy-cuckoo…"  She brushed the hair away from his face and kissed the top of his head.

"Night, Mommy…" James replied, smiling sweetly, hugging his 'star' close to him.  "Mommy, if you have a wishing star, what will you wish for?"

"I don't know…" Rachel replied truthfully.  She smiled, her deep blue eyes twinkling.  "But tonight, I think I'm gonna want to wish that my Jamesy-cuckoo will finally go to sleep…because I really, really think it's way past his bedtime.  And I don't want my Jamesy to feel so tired in the morning…"

James giggled.  "I love you, Mommy…I hope you never leave me and Emma…"

Rachel wrinkled her brow.  "Why will I do that?"

"Because some mommies do," James replied.  "In school, I'm the only one that doesn't have a mommy who go to work…"

"You guys talk about that in preschool?" Rachel joked.  "I thought you just sing ABC and count 123 there…"

James giggled.  "Ms. Butters teach me how to write my name too…"

"Of course…"  Rachel smiled and ran her hand down James' face to close his eyes.  "Go to sleep…" she whispered.

Rachel smiled as she watched the movement of the boy's chest became steadier and steadier.  Within minutes, James was sound asleep.  Quietly, Rachel stood up and then proceeded to her baby girl's nursery.

When she stepped inside Emma's room, its yellow walls looked orange as the warm glow of the night lamp by the white bureau filled the room.  Her eyes immediately went for the white iron crib, but Emma was not there.  Instead, Rachel found her tiny cherub in her father's arms, both of them slumbering peacefully as they rock softly back and forth in the cushioned wicker rocker.

"Aww…how cute…" Rachel mouthed affectionately.  Immediately, she walked over to the bureau and quietly pulled out a disposable camera that she had always kept in the top drawer.  She knew those disposable cameras she had put in nearly every room in their house would come in handy one of these days.  Ross had told her that she didn't have to do that, that she was silly for doing that, but she insisted that the most snapshot-worthy, precious moments come when you least expect it and she was right.  For once, she was right over her husband, and she was proud of herself.  "And you thought you're always right…" Rachel whispered, pleased with herself, before taking the picture.

Neither the bright flash nor the sound of clicking of the camera woke up the father and daughter duo, but when Rachel touched Ross's shoulder lightly, his tired lids blinked and slowly opened in a semi-startled daze.  "Hey…Emma's asleep.  Why don't you go to bed?  I know you're very tired…I'll take it from here…" Rachel offered, her tone full of care and affection.

Ross smiled, grabbed Rachel's hand, and brought it to his lips.  "Thanks, sweetie…but it's okay.  You spend all day taking care of our children, so leave the nighttime to me," he replied with a wink before standing up to put Emma back to her crib, pausing before Rachel to let her kiss Emma goodnight.

Rachel smiled as she took a step back, watching Ross lovingly tuck their baby daughter in the crib.  She sighed, and mindlessly stroked the wedding band on her left finger.  She loved Ross so much, and there was simply no way that she'd want to imagine life without him.  Marrying him was, by far, the best decision she made in her life and not once did she regret it.

"And now, it's time to tuck Mrs. Geller to bed," Ross spoke suddenly, taking Rachel completely by surprise when he took her in his arms and swept her off her feet.

"Just tuck?" Rachel joked sexily as Ross carried her through the hallway and into their bedroom.

"Of course there's going to be more to it than just tucking you in to bed…" Ross chuckled, mischievously wiggling his eyebrows.  "And no, please don't remind me again that your dad would be over for dinner this weekend…coz that would just ruin the mood."

Rachel giggled.  "I don't have to…you kinda did that on your own…"

"Right."  Ross smiled as he laid his wife on the bed.  He crawled into bed next to her, slid one of his hands under her, and with his other hand laced their fingers together.  He looked deeply into Rachel's eyes for what seemed like a long time just as he always had to let her know that something 'special' is about to happen; but this time, Rachel wasn't sure if Ross was zoning out or he was just really looking deeply into her eyes.  He was so still and so quiet.

"Honey, you know my father doesn't hate you…" Rachel said when Ross made no other movement whatsoever, her lips curving up into a soft smile.  If Ross replied, then he's still awake.  If not, her husband just might have fallen asleep for the first time with his eyes open.

"Later." Ross cut her off with a kiss, passionate at first and then eventually becoming soft and short as Ross made his way down the curve of Rachel's neck.  He broke their hand clasp and his hand went under her shirt and caressed her stomach for a fleeting moment.  Then, he stopped altogether, and pretty soon Rachel felt his warm breath blowing steadier and steadier against her neck.

Rachel sighed and broke into soft laughter as she took a glance at her sleeping husband.  "Damn!  Am I not that sexy anymore?  Sex had better be good this weekend, mister!" she mumbled laughingly.  Ross was so tired, she could tell; so she was not mad or upset.  If anything, she found it funny how Ross tried to fulfill his duties as a husband to her, but in a comical way, failed to do so.  She was surprised that he got as far as kissing her considering how his eyes looked like they were about to fall.  With a sigh, she kissed the tip of her husband's nose.  "I love you, honey…" she whispered, closing her eyes, before sleep finally descended upon her, resting safe and comfortably encircled in her husband's loving arms.  There was really nothing else she could ever wish for, except maybe that tomorrow would be the same as the day that had just ended.

=====

"Daddy can you get a big Christmas tree?" James requested over breakfast the next morning.

"Sure thing, sport," Ross replied, taking a sip of his morning coffee.

"Can you get it tonight?" James asked.

Rachel looked at her son.  "James, I don't think that's a good idea.  Daddy has a long day today and you don't want him to get too tired now, do you?  Now, just be a good boy and eat your Cheerios."

James reluctantly obeyed, but then later shook his head.  "But when are we gonna get the Christmas tree?" he whined.  "You said Grandpa Green is coming on Saturday so Daddy can't get the tree then."

"Well, there's still Sunday," Rachel replied as a matter-of-factly.

"But I'm sleeping over at Aunt Monica's on Sunday," James pointed out.

"It's all right."  Ross thought for a second.  "I can get the tree tonight…"

"Ross," Rachel stated firmly.  "You know you don't have to try to be Superman all the time…I don't want you overdoing yourself any more than you already do…"

Touched by his wife's concern, Ross stood up to plant a kiss on the crown of Rachel's head.  "Sweetie, I don't have to try…I am Superman," Ross smirked jokingly.  "Besides, James is right.  There'll never be a better time.  Christmas is coming in like what, two weeks?"

"Yeah!" James joined in excitedly.  "My daddy is Superman.  He can do anything!"

Rachel smiled at her son.  James' confidence in his father was immeasurable.  Rachel didn't think it could ever be shattered.  Ross has proved over and over that he could do anything and be everything to his family.  That was what made him too good to be true sometimes, she mused smilingly, glad that she became his Mrs. Geller.

"Whatever!"  Rachel rolled her eyes, directing her answer to her husband.  "Seriously, honey, I don't want you to overdo yourself any more than you need to.  I know that as a Geller, you tend to want things to be perfect, but—"

Ross smiled and silenced Rachel with a brief kiss.  "I'll get the tree."

"Daddy, a big one, okay?" James reminded.

"Of course, sport."  Ross leaned down to kiss the boy's head.

"Promise?" James pressed.

Ross smiled and nodded.  "I promise…"  He pulled his sleeve up and glanced at his wristwatch.  "Well, I better go.  I can't be late for work…"

"Dadddsss!" Emma called to her Daddy, holding out her oatmeal-covered hand.

"Bye, princess…"  Ross kissed the happy toddler.  He straightened up and turned to his son who stood up on his chair to face him.  "And James, little buddy, I'll come back later with the tree, okay?"

"Yes sir!" James excitedly saluted at his chuckling father.  "I love you, Daddy."

"Love you, too, sport."  Ross ruffled his boy's hair.  "And of course, you too princess," he quickly added, knowing exactly what was coming from his daughter who already opened her mouth to get his attention.

Rachel stood up and walked her husband to the door.  As they walked, she ran the list of things Ross could possibly forget.  "Okay, the Salinger folder you took out from your briefcase last night?  The file for your meeting today?  Your Palm?  Cellphone?"

Ross chuckled and set his briefcase down on the floor.  "You're worse than my new secretary, do you know that?"  He pulled Rachel close, wrapping his arms loosely around her waist.

"I've never met your new secretary," Rachel replied, lacing her fingers together at the back of Ross's head.  "Is she hot?"  She demanded like one jealous wife.

Ross shrugged his shoulders, not once breaking his eye contact with his wife.  "Nah…not as hot as you," he replied with a smile before covering Rachel's mouth with his.

They kissed, long and deep, but when they heard James' footsteps approaching and yelling, "Mommy!" the couple didn't think twice and jumped back from each other.  They have a rule: no heavy kissing in front of the kids.  Brief and light pecks were okay, but 'tonsil hockey' was a big no-no.

Flustered, Rachel ran a hand through her honey-blonde locks and tried to keep a neutral face.  "Yes, James?" she asked when the boy appeared in the hallway.

But James was no fool.  Though he didn't see it, he knew exactly what his parents were doing before he walked in.  He grinned, mischievous and big.  His Uncle Chandler, his Aunt Monica's husband, told him that if his Mommy and Daddy were 'really' kissing, it just meant that they love each other—that, or they just want to give him and Emma a baby brother or sister.  He never really understood what his uncle meant with the latter reason.  Nevertheless, he loved listening to his Uncle Chandler's explanations because he had always treated him like an adult—much to the chagrin of his slightly over-protective parents.

"Umm, nothing…" James replied, slightly blushing, before he ran back into the kitchen.  Whatever he had to say could wait.

Rachel grabbed Ross's hand.  "Honey, we can't let James sleep over at Monica's this weekend."  It was a statement rather than a suggestion.  "Chandler teaches him all kinds of stuff!"

"You are so cute when you're all motherly and worried like that," Ross commented.

Rachel rolled her eyes.  "Ross, I'm serious!"

"I know…" Ross replied, planting a kiss on the tip of Rachel's nose.

"Then do something about it!" Rachel blurted out.  "I mean, I don't want our child knowing about the birds and the bees before the time even comes when he'd ask me about it!"

Ross chuckled.  "If he already knows about it, I don't think he'd even come to ask you," he joked.  When Rachel rolled her eyes again, he laughed.  "Okay, I'll talk to Chandler."

"Thank you!" Rachel replied.  She fixed her husband's tie and looked up at him.  "Seriously, honey, I don't know what I'd ever do without you…"

"You always say that," Ross noted.  "But you know, I don't think you're ever going to lose me…I'm yours forever, remember?" he added with a wink.  He brought his hand to Rachel's face and gently stroked her cheek.  "I'll take care of you and our children until my very last breath…Well, you more than them because, soon James and Emma will grow up and get married and leave us…"

Rachel giggled, although the thought of her children growing up and leaving them was a little unnerving.  "So what you're saying is that we'll grow old together?"

"Exactly…because I love you.  And I can't think of a better person to grow old with except you," Ross replied slowly with a smile.  "No leaving, no giving up…"

"You promise?" Rachel asked half-seriously like a little girl asking for reassurance.

"Of course!" Ross replied, chuckling lightly.

"Well, then, Atty. Dr. Geller, I promise not to leave you or give you up either…ever."  Rachel smiled sweetly and then tiptoed to touch her nose to Ross's.  "Ooh, your nose is sticky," she muttered laughingly, rubbing her nose furiously with her hand.

Ross laughed.  "Yeah, that's probably from when I kissed Emma goodbye."

Rachel giggled and then sighed.  "I love our life…I love us…I love you…everything!  I hope things will never change…"

"They don't have to," Ross said reassuringly.  "And even if they do, I can only imagine it's going to be for the better."

"You think?"

"Hey, when have I ever been wrong?" Ross smirked playfully.

Rachel rolled her eyes before lifting her lips to meet Ross' for one final kiss.  "Oh, you are so smug, Geller.  You think you're always right.  You're lucky you married someone who can deal with that attitude…"

"Yeah, I am lucky…lucky and very happy…" Ross whispered.  "That's why I intend to spend the rest of my life making you feel the same…and that's a promise…"

=====

 "Chestnuts roasting on an open fire.  Jack frost nipping at your nose…"

Ross smiled as he hummed along to The Christmas Song on the radio on his way to pick up a fresh pine tree before he drove home.  He loved the holidays, and he was looking forward to this upcoming one especially.  He and Rachel just had so many plans and his heart was already bubbling with excitement.  He loved his life.  He loved everything about it.  Like Rachel, he really didn't want things to change.  He loved it just the way it was…perfect.

People from work told him that it was easy for him to call his life 'perfect' because he had never gone through the darkest storms.  If everything were taken away from him suddenly, would he still feel the same about it?  If one day he just woke up and find himself unable to fulfill his duties to his family, would he still consider his life perfect?  Worse, would his family be able to carry through the storm?  What if his life was just a living lie masked behind the beautiful imagery of perfection?

Ross just laughed at these questions posed by his work colleague that day.  With Rachel and their two beautiful children, it was just hard to imagine a storm that could possibly shatter their calm, perfect world.  He didn't think it wouldn't be possible, but at this point, it just seemed so distant and unrealistic to him.  

Ross cleared the fog on the windshield with the sleeve of his jacket and peered out at the road ahead of him.  There was no one in front of him, but there must have been three or four cars trailing behind his maroon SUV.  Jerkily, he pumped on the brakes since the road was somewhat slick that night.  The temperature had risen earlier that day, melting some of the snow already on the ground.  So, when the temperature dropped again by evening, the slush on the road turned into annoying packs of ice, making the road a little bit slippery.

"Oh, damn!"  Ross cursed under his breath when lost control of his vehicle momentarily and skidded somewhat.  Fortunately, he had enough experience driving in the snow that he was able to regain control of his car without panicking.  Ross let out a sigh of relief after he escaped the minor skidding incident.  The last thing he needed right now was an accident.  His family depended on him and he couldn't let them down.  So, more carefully this time, he drove at a much slower speed until some of the impatient cars behind him began passing him.  He didn't care nevertheless.  He'd much rather take an extra ounce of preventative measure than to speed to his death.  After a brief glance on the clock in the dashboard, he kept driving northbound.

Unexpectedly, out of seemingly nowhere a drunken truck driver came careening from the west.  Just before the driver's reflexes could kick in to stop before the red stop sign, the 6-wheeler truck violently gyrated and crashed right into the SUV carefully crossing the intersection, pushing it quite a few feet eastward.  The screeching of the brakes was loud.  Creepy.  Red spots tainted the snow along with sharp shards of glass.  All the other cars behind the maroon SUV stopped before the site of the accident, all aghast at the horror that took place.  It happened so suddenly, so unexpectedly.  As the drivers sat, shaken and unable to make another move, silently they wondered if at least two families would be shedding tears this Christmas…

To be continued…


	3. Wishes 2

Wishes 

_two_

=====

Rachel anxiously paced the hospital corridor, waiting for news about Ross's condition, worriedly stroking the wedding band on her left hand.  Doctors, nurses, and aides continued to pass her by as they have been doing for the entire hour and a half that she had been there, but not one of them could distract Rachel's attention that was solely focused on the doors of the operating room right across from where she was standing.  She was informed that Ross has been there for over two hours and she was getting worried.

"Monica, what's taking them so long?" Rachel muttered fretfully, running a hand over her flustered, tear-stained face.  She took three deep breaths to calm her frayed nerves, but not one seemed to have helped her any.  Until she saw her husband alive and well, she wouldn't be able to calm herself.

Monica stood up and grabbed her sister-in-law's hand, giving it a comforting squeeze.  "Rach, relax.  Everything's going to be okay…" she said tentatively though her voice sounded with much uncertainty.  She'd like to think that everything's going to turn out well, but she didn't know.  There was no way of knowing unless one of the doctors performing a surgery on Ross comes out.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, the doors to the operating room opened and an exhausted doctor clad in pale green scrubs came out and approached the two anxious women.  "Mrs. Geller?" he asked.

"Yes?" Rachel immediately answered, stepping up to talk to the doctor.  "How's my husband?"

"I'm Dr. Krauss," the doctor introduced with a small smile on his face.  "Well, I have good news…" he trailed, his demeanor changing from neutral to solemn.  "And bad news…"

Rachel swallowed hard and wrapped her arms protectively around her body.  "Bad news?" she echoed, her voice shaky.  She wasn't sure if it was the doctor's sudden change of demeanor that frightened her or the grave pitch in his voice when he said bad news, or perhaps both, but her heart stopped—or at least she thought it did.  She held her breath and not once released it until the doctor finished what he was saying.

"Well, the good news is…your husband's not going to need leg amputation as we originally thought we might have to do when he was brought in…As for the bad news…"  Dr. Krauss looked down on the floor and drew a long deep breath.  "Your husband suffered serious injuries from the crash and while we did the best that we could to repair those damages..." he trailed, unintentionally prolonging Rachel's misery.  "It's still uncertain whether he'll make it…The brain waves that we've been getting from him don't indicate that he's going to wake up any time soon…or ever…I'm sorry…"  He looked down on the ground again and took another heart-stopping pause.  "We're all just going to have to wait and see…Although, I must warn you, there's a chance that if or when he does survive, there's no guarantee that he'll ever be the same again.  He might become physically paralyzed for the rest of his life, or become mentally handicapped, or worse, he could be both…"  

Rachel's shoulder slumped down in defeat.  Her last reserve of strength seemed to have suddenly dissipated.  Her knees gave away, and if it weren't for Monica who immediately rushed to her side and led her to a chair, she would have collapsed directly to the floor.  The news was more than she could bear at the moment.  Before she even had time to process her thoughts, tears clouded her vision.

Dr. Krauss smiled weakly, almost apologetically.  "Mrs. Geller, I understand that this is not the news you want to hear…I'm sorry…but at this point, all we can do is wait…"

=====

Restlessly, Chandler glanced at the bright yellow clock on the wall and put down the Newsweek magazine that he had been reading as he waited for Monica and Rachel to come back from the hospital or at least call for some news.   "C'mon, Ems.  Go to sleep…"  He stood up from the wicker rocker and walked toward the crib.  He rubbed his chin warily, trying to figure out what to do.  The last thing he expected when he accepted this babysitting task was for Emma to be this fussy.  He thought James would be harder to babysit, but he was wrong; Emma was more difficult.  She had been crying all night, and she wouldn't stop.

Emma whimpered and shifted her position for the umpteenth time; this time rolling over onto her stomach.  "Dadddsss," she cried, holding up her head as she looked at the direction of the door.  Her rosy cheeks were damp with tears; her tiny nose, red from crying.  She was obviously sleepy, but she was trying hard to fight it.  "Dadddsss," she called again.

Chandler sighed, unsure of what to do next.  The child was looking for Ross; he just didn't know how to produce Ross to stop the girl from crying.  He hasn't heard from Monica or Rachel and he was getting worried.  "I hope everything's still okay…" he muttered fretfully, mentally noting how long it has been since Rachel and his wife left for the hospital.

"Dadddsss!" Emma suddenly screamed loudly at the top of her lungs.

Startled, Chandler jumped back as if frightened by the girl in the crib.  "Okay…" he mumbled unsurely, taking smaller steps back toward the crib.  "Ssshhh…Don't cry Ems.  You'll wake up your brother…" he whispered in an awkward attempt to pacify the crying child, but mostly so he could save himself the trouble of having had to deal with the mischievous James if he woke up.

"Nigh-nigh Dadddsss…" the toddler continued to cry, tears rolling down her cheeks.  "Nigh-nigh Dadddsss…"

Chandler had no idea what 'nigh-nigh' meant in adult language, but he knew what 'Dadddsss' meant.  Though a little hesitant at first, Chandler picked up the crying toddler and held her in an awkward position.  "Sorry Emma…Your Aunt Monica and I don't have a baby to practice on so Uncle Chandler doesn't know how to hold a baby properly…"

The girl didn't seem to care about the way that she was held, but she continued to cry and hold out her arms to the direction of the door.  "Dadddsss…" she sobbed.

Chandler tried bouncing Emma in his arms, all the while his brains were working nonstop to come up with a way to pacify the girl.   He glanced around the room, looking for a quick temporary fix-it.  "Hush Emma…please stop crying…"  Having spotted a framed picture of Ross and Emma by the changing table, Chandler picked it up and handed it to the crying toddler.  "Is this what you want?" he asked her.

Emma shook her head, but she took the frame and never let it go.  She set the frame against Chandler's shoulder and then pressed her cheek to the glass.  She continued to whimper for nearly half an hour, but then eventually, her whimpers turned into short, occasional sniffles as sleep and exhaustion finally wore her out.  "Nigh-nigh Dadddsss…" she purred more softly as her lids grew heavier and heavier.  Within minutes, she was asleep.

Chandler smiled wistfully when he sat back on the rocker with a tired Emma in his arms, exhausted from the fatherhood ordeal he was suddenly subjected under. Ever so gently, he pulled the frame from under Emma's face and sighed.  He felt so bad for the child, crying herself to sleep like that, waiting for her father who wouldn't come home that night.  Slowly, he glanced at the clock again and hoped hard that the long wait would soon be over.  It couldn't get worse than this, could it?

=====

Monica quietly opened the door to Ross's private ward and let herself inside the room.  The gust of air that welcomed her when she stepped in was chilly, almost creepy, that she pulled her jacket even tighter around her.  It was almost as if the cold hand of death was just guarding the room, waiting for the perfect timing to snatch her brother away from life…away from his kids…away from Rachel…

A lone tear escaped the corner of Monica's eye when she spotted her best friend stooped down at Ross's bedside, sobbing quietly, remorsefully as she held Ross's hand.  She had never seen Rachel like this before.  From the time that she received that phone call from her, asking her to come over ASAP, to the time that she drove her best friend to the hospital, Rachel managed to keep herself composed; but now, Rachel suddenly seemed completely shaken and vulnerably lost.

Monica sighed and then glanced at her brother.  Ross was unnervingly still.  His only movement was the irregular up and down motion of his chest as he breathed in and out through a respirator.  All sorts of machines and metal support-like structures were attached to his body as if they were keeping him put together in one piece.  His left leg and arm were in full cast.  His head was wrapped in a thick bandage, stabilized into a stiff position by a neck support.  His face was bruised, especially on the left side.  His eyes were closed; his lips, drawn into a thin pale line; and his skin, sallow.

The hospital staff said that Ross was still lucky to have reached the hospital alive; the truck driver died on the spot.  Nevertheless, Monica preferred not to call it luck.  There was hardly a trace of life in her brother, except for his labored breathing that continued to reassure them that he was still hanging on.  It wasn't luck, Monica thought wryly.  It was a bad dream that everyone involved has to wake up to.  Perhaps the only good thing about the situation was that Ross was still 'hanging on,' that there was still this faintest glimmer of hope existing, that hope wasn't completely put out.

Quietly, Monica laid a gentle hand on Rachel's shoulder, making her presence felt.  "Ssshhh…" she tried comfort her, hugging her close, resting her chin on top of Rachel's head.

"I can't lose him, Mon…Ross can't leave me like this…I don't want him to die…" Rachel cried distraughtly.  "Please tell me he'll come out of this…please tell me he'll be fine…" she begged, desperate.  She needed to hear it from somebody else because she had just lost all the resolve to believe it.  She felt so low and so scared because she knew she could lose him in any second.  The possibility of losing him was so real and so close. Up until that moment, the thought of losing Ross had never seriously crossed her mind; but now it was a reality she just might have to face.  The sadder part was, even if Ross survived this, there was no guarantee that he would ever be the same Ross again.  For all she knew, her Ross was no more.  This very thought drove her to despair and she wept bitterly.

Monica sighed and tried to share with her friend what little hope she was trying to hold on to.  "Hey," she spoke softly.  "You're not going to lose him.  My brother loves you so much to just leave you like this.  He won't leave you, Rach.  You're just gonna have to believe that…"  Her words were hardly making sense, considering that the evidence of Ross caught in the threshold of life and death was just right before her eyes, but she was trying hard to uphold her optimism in spite of it.  If they were to get through this trying ordeal, she needed to keep that hope burning…unless someone else could come up with a different plan…

=====

James was in daze when he opened his eyes and found himself in his racecar bed a few hours after the break of dawn.  Still unaware of his father's accident, he bolted up in bed with a smile like always.  "My star!" he announced out loud as he searched for the last object he held in his hands before he fell asleep.  When he found it on top of the nightstand, he grinned from ear to ear.  As if uttering a prayer—and perhaps he was—he held the favored object against his chest, closed his eyes, and quietly mumbled, "I wish for a gummy bear for breakfast.  Please, please…I'm stubborn.  I believe."

Already, he was putting his 'star' to work.

Filled with much energy and determination, he leaned forward and pulled out a small packet of gummy bears from his nightstand drawer.  He had been really sneaky yesterday.  While his parents were in the hallway when his mother saw his father off, he went to the pantry, took the packet of gummy bears, and hid it under his pajamas, then bolted upstairs to hide the candies.  With a mischievous twinkle in his eyes upon remembering the previous day's events, he chewed on a gummy candy and grinned satisfactorily.  "Wish come true!"

He made his very first wish and, already, it came true.

As if he had already mapped out the rest of his day—and again, perhaps he had—still in his pajamas, he slid out of his bed and scurried to his hand painted, multi-colored toy chest by the window.  He pulled up its orange lid and dug through his toys and rock collection until he found what he was looking for: his set of felt-tip markers that he threw in there some time ago.  He took a step back and scratched his head as he studied his messy toy chest.  Not exactly proud of his 'box of mess,' he sighed, hurriedly shut the chest, and sat on it as if creepy, crawly creatures would soon come out of it if he hadn't.  Just like his Aunt Monica, he didn't like mess.

He sat on the box for a minute, and then stood up, picking up the markers on his way back to bed.  Once in his bed, he picked up his 'wishing star' again and pulled out a black marker from the packet.  Biting on the plastic lid of the marker, he drew two round dots on the top spoke of the 'ugly' golden star.  With even more determination etching on his face, he drew a curve resembling to a smile under the two round dots.  Then he smiled, proud and satisfied.  "Hmm…now mommy will think you are a nice star too…"

As soon as he gave his star a face, he leapt out of his bed and headed for his closet to get dressed for his morning walk with Daddy.  After so many struggles, he was finally able to put on a sweater—inside out—and a nice comfortable pair of snow pants.  In an almost automatic gesture, he pulled open another drawer and took out the first pair of socks he could grab.  "Daddy, I'm almost ready!" he called out, hopping on one foot as he threw a fight with the sock he was putting on lopsidedly.  Without even bothering about anything else, just like always, he grinned happily as he scurried out of his room, not knowing that the new day no longer held the same 'familiar' surprises as the day before.

=====

James watched his Uncle Joey put a pancake with a smiley face before him on the table and wrinkled his nose as he glanced at his aunt who was in the kitchen with Emma on her hip.  "Aunt Monica, what happened to my Daddy?  Why isn't he here and why did you make my Mommy sleep?" His young eyes reflected confusion.  His voice carried a sense of urgency.

"James, do you want anything with your pancake?" Chandler offered, deliberately ignoring the boy's question as the others have been doing all morning.  "Blueberry jam?  Peanut butter?"

"No, thanks," James shook his head.  "Aunt Monica?"

"Or do you want more pancakes?" Joey asked in the same nonchalant manner as Chandler.

James sighed, exasperated with his current situation, and shook his head.  He was definitely not appreciating his unusual morning company. Having his parents' friends around—his aunts and uncles—was not his favorite day-starter.  It had always been him, his parents, and Emma: his Daddy would be going over the newspaper while sipping his coffee, his Mommy would be buttering her toast, Emma would be shoving fistful of her cereal into her mouth until her shirt is all dirty, and he would be having his Cheerios with milk and strawberries.  That's what they have always done, and that's the kind of mornings he's used to having.  Nothing less, nothing more.

"Aunt Monica, where's my Daddy and why did you make my Mommy sleep?" James asked again, a little annoyed this time.

"Because your Mommy didn't sleep last night and she's very tired," Phoebe replied from the kitchen as she continued to rummage through the cabinets of the unfamiliar territory.  "Mon, where do you think Rach keeps Emma's cereal?" she wondered out loud, scratching her head as she ran her eyes through boxes and boxes of uncooked pasta and the like in one of the cabinets.

"That's right, James," Monica finally spoke up, but only to affirm Phoebe's much more simplified explanation.  She probably could have explained things more clearly to James better than anyone else in the room—that his father was still in a coma after that dreadful car accident, and that because of this his mother came close to breakdown that the doctors had to give her sedatives so she would be able to sleep to keep her sanity intact—but at this point, she was too tired to think of anything to say.   So, she deliberately ignored James's demands. 

"Chandler, can you toss Emma's rattle over here?" Monica shifted Emma uncomfortably on her hip.  "Little Miss Ems is getting impatient with Aunt Monica and Aunt Phoebe."  She smiled at the antsy toddler.  "So sorry Ems…we're still looking for your food…"

James sighed, frustrated at the way everyone has been acting towards him.  He couldn't understand why his aunts and uncles were ignoring his questions.  Where was his Daddy, and why did they make his Mommy sleep so that now she was sleeping in her bedroom, while he and Emma were left with aunts and uncle who didn't know how things work around his house?  Annoyed with everyone else in the room, he pushed his plate to the edge of the table until it came crashing down onto the floor into tiny broken pieces.  "I said, WHERE'S MY DADDY!?!  ME AND MY DADDY ARE GONNA WALK AROUND THE NEIGHBOR'S HOOD BUT HE ISN'T HERE!  AND WHY DID YOU MAKE MY MOMMY SLEEP?!?"

Everybody froze, including Emma, stunned by the noise and James's sudden fit of temper.

"I don't like you!  All of you!" James yelled at the top of his lungs.  "You don't tell me where my Daddy is and you make-d my Mommy sleep!  Why'd you do that?  You don't know how to be like my Mommy!  I don't eat pancake for breakfast!  I eat Cheerios with milk and strawberries!"

All adults in the room exchanged glances with each other, each one trying to decide who would better break the news to upset little boy.  

Chandler was the first to make an exit.  He knew his capabilities—or the lack thereof—enough to know that he was not the best man to do the job, so he stood up and awkwardly made his excuse.  "I'll go find the mop to clean up the mess…" he offered.  He'd much rather bow out from the task than to make matters worse.

Joey pensively glanced at Monica and then at Chandler.  "Yeah, I'll go with you," he quickly added and immediately followed Chandler out.

Phoebe promptly followed with an exit by taking Emma from Monica.  "Here, let me take Emma.  I think she's old enough to eat a pancake for breakfast…"

Monica sighed uncomfortably and slowly approached her upset nephew.  Apparently everyone thought that she should be the one to explain everything to the boy.  She took a chair by the breakfast nook next to James and smiled timidly.  "James," she began softly, patiently, carefully.  She touched his hand but he snatched it away.  "Listen, Chunky-Monkey, I'm sorry you're stuck with us.  Obviously, we don't know any better how your Mommy and Daddy do things around here, but James, I'm afraid you're just gonna have to learn to deal with that for now…"  Monica trailed, mentally preparing what to say next.

"Why?"  James asked tearfully, his eyes full of confusion.

"Because your Daddy is very sick right now…that's why he couldn't be here to take you out for your walk…" Monica explained hesitantly.  "And your Mommy…well, she is not feeling too well so we have to make her go to sleep," 

"But why isn't Daddy here?  When Mommy is not feeling too well, Daddy doesn't go to work.  And if Daddy's sick too, he should be here too," James replied.  "My Mommy and Daddy take care of each other when they're sick…"

Monica's heart went out for her nephew.  He seemed so lost, so confused, and yet so determined at the same time.  He was too young to understand what was going on.  Much too young to lose his father, she thought sadly.  "You're right.  They take care of each other…but you know, it's different this time…"

"Why?" James pressed whiningly.

"Because your Daddy is very sick and he needs to stay in the hospital…"  Monica drew in a deep breath.  She couldn't make herself tell her nephew that it's different this time because his father got into an accident and was now possibly just waiting for his death.  She couldn't tell him that.  James would never understand.

"How long is he gonna be in the hospital?" James asked, his brows drawn into a thoughtful furrow.

"I don't know…" Monica replied tentatively.  "Maybe for a long time…"

"But Daddy can't stay there for a long time," James cried.  "We're still gonna have Christmas…"

Monica sighed and touched the boy's cheek, wiping his tears that had fallen.  "I know that Chunky-Monkey…"  The thought of her nephew possibly losing his father before then was causing the tears to rim around her eyes.  "This is so awful…" she mumbled inwardly.  Pulling herself together, she forced herself to smile at her nephew.  "Well, I guess we're just gonna have to keep praying that your Daddy will not stay there for a long time, okay?  But until then, do you think you can be a good boy for Aunt Monica and help me and Uncle Chandler and Aunt Phoebe and Uncle Joey learn how to do things around your house?  Do you think you can do that?"

James was pensive for a moment, but eventually he nodded.  "Okay…"  He sighed, taking a moment to pause.  "Emma's cereal is in the pantry...It's next to the gummy bears, but the gummy bears is not there anymore."  He blushed, and his lips turned up into a slow smile.  "Please don't tell Mommy that I take-d the gummy bears…" he whispered to his aunt.

Monica laughed softly, glad that the boy was willing to cooperate.  "No problem, Chunky-Monkey.  Your secret's safe with me."

James sighed and then folded his hands on top of the table.  The gravity of the situation didn't weigh down on him as it might have if he had been older, and Monica was certainly glad about that.  Without so much as another word, the boy shook off his tears and changed the topic as if nothing happened.  After all, he had a more pressing issue to pursue—or so he thought.  "Aunt Monica, do you believe in making wishes on stars?"

=====

It was shortly past four o'clock in the afternoon when Rachel woke up.  She lay in bed, eyes still closed, taking a moment to shake off the drowsiness that was the after-effect of the pill that she took that morning.  For a few hours the pill had worked.  It numbed her senses and made her forget everything, but after the drug had worn off, that pain was back and it was more excruciating than ever.

Ross.  Her entire being was immediately consummated by thoughts of her husband.  He was the last thing on her mind before she drifted into a long dreamless slumber, and the very first before she even opened her eyes.  She couldn't imagine life without him.  She didn't even want to open her eyes anymore, knowing that she wouldn't find him by her side. 

Nevertheless, the slightest movement on the bed caused Rachel's eyes to flutter open.  When her eyes finally adjusted to the light, she didn't find Ross.  Instead, she found her 'Little Ross,' lying on his back on the bed, knees pulled in, and contentedly munching on a bag of gummy candies while staring up at the ceiling.  When the boy finally noticed his mother watching him, he blushed and broke into a familiar guilty grin.

Rachel smiled weakly.  She was already too used to that guilty smile James had on his face.  "Okay, what did you do this time besides eating too much gummy candies?"

James bit his bottom lip and looked away, avoiding his mother's eyes.  "Umm…" he trailed, delaying his answer.

"James," Rachel pressed.

The boy's eyes widened and his expression became defensive.  "I'm just trying to see how far I can throw…the gummy bears…"  He continued to bit on his bottom lip, and with his eyes, led his mother to stare up the ceiling where four gummy bears, all four different colors, were sticking up on the ivory ceiling of the bedroom.

Rachel shook her head and draped an arm around her mischievous son, wanting to pull a stern face but lacking the strength and will to scold.  "Ahh James…" she sighed.  "I don't know what to do with you anymore.  You're always up to some kind of mischief…"

"Sorry…"  James grinned sheepishly and relaxed in his mother's arms, glad that he didn't get the reprimand he probably deserved.  Gently, he rolled over to his side to return his mother's hug, and when he saw tears in her eyes, he drew his brows together in a thoughtful furrow.  "Mommy, are you sad?  Is it because I'm not a good boy?"

Rachel shook her head and, with her hand, brushed James' dark hair away from his face.  "No.  You have been a good boy.  You have been a very good boy," she told the child reassuringly.  She managed to give him a smile, but in her eyes remained the pain and sadness that had seared their way into her soul and continued to reflect off of them.

Upon hearing his mother's reply, the boy's simple mind immediately attributed such pain to his father's absence.  James sighed and brought his hand to his mother's face, wiping the tears from her eyes.  "Don't be sad Mommy…Daddy is gonna get better soon.  And he's gonna come home.  And he's gonna bring our Christmas tree.  And we're gonna decorate.  And we're gonna have a nice Christmas.  And we're gonna open gifts.  And we're gonna sing Jingle Bells and be happy…"

Rachel cried harder when James said all this.  His face was so full of hope and so much excitement that Rachel was saddened to think that perhaps that wouldn't be happening this Christmas...or any other Christmases to come for that matter.  Ross might die and that's a possibility she couldn't possibly ignore.  She could choose to hide behind that truth, but the truth would remain no matter what.

Rachel sighed.  If only everything in life were as simple as James believes life to be, she wouldn't be crying, Rachel thought sadly.  She didn't even know how she would be able to tell the boy that they just might never be able to do those things he mentioned, that Ross just might never come back, that even if Ross comes back, their life would never be the same again...

But for James, everything was simple, everything had a solution.  His youth, his innocence, and his simple faith all kept him believing that life holds no complications.  

Rolling over to his other side, he took the 'star' that he had placed on the bed next to him.  He held it up for his mother to see, turning it over so that the face he drew on it would show and smile down at his disheartened mother.  "My star's so pretty now, Mommy…I draw-ed a face on it," he stated as a matter-of-factly.  "Here, make a wish on it.  You can wish that Daddy will not be sick anymore so he can come home soon."  

He put the star in his mother's hands and folded her fingers around it.  "Try it.  It will come true…My wish come-d true…You just say, I wish for Da-…I mean, Ross…to not be sick and that you're stubborn and that you believe," he instructed determinedly.  "You have to tell the star that you're stubborn and that you believe so it will know that the wish is important to you and that you believe it and that you won't stop believing it until it comes true.  If not, it might not work," he added quickly, his eyes wide with youthful innocence.

Rachel sighed and fought back her tears to no avail.  If it were that simple, she wouldn't be crying.  Disappointment lies ahead and she could feel it.  She didn't want to hope against hope, to wish for the impossible.  She was no longer a child to believe that life is always wonderful, spectacularly magical…because the truth is, it isn't.  She had just come to realize that now.  Life wouldn't change just because of a single wish upon a star.  For a long time, she wished that her life wouldn't change, but what's this that she has to deal with now?

But for James, there were no impossibilities…only wishes upon a star that could make even the most impossible dream come true.  So when the boy noticed that his mother didn't make a wish, he did, for her; and he was determined not to stop until his second wish came true.

=====

Fresh snow continued to make its descent on the earth, making the dark horizon appear lighter than it really was.  Even Rachel, as she stared out the kitchen window, mindlessly stroking the wedding band on her finger, found herself oddly comforted as she watched the dance of snowflakes on Christmas Eve.  She didn't think comfort would ever be possible…not when Ross was still in coma, showing no signs of improvement.

The last two weeks had been the darkest, hardest two weeks of her life.   Never in her life had she felt so weak and so vulnerable the way she did in those two agonizing weeks.  She felt so lost without Ross.  The affectionate kisses they shared, the hugs, the subtle little touches, the sound of his voice announcing to the entire household that he's home, the sound of his footsteps, his smell—she missed them.  She missed him.  She didn't think she could still take another second without him.  She felt like giving up, but every time she'd look at her kids, she knew she had to force herself to stay strong.  James and Emma needed her and she needed to be there for them.  

The long beep from the microwave brought Rachel's attention to focus.  After waiting a few more seconds, she opened the door and pulled out the last of the frozen dinner.  Part of her was still hoping that Ross's footsteps would echo in the hallway once more.  Part of her was still hoping that she'd hear Ross's voice any minute now and announce where he got their dinner for the night.  The fact that Ross would be there was what Rachel wanted.  That was what she really needed even just for that night.  

Sadly, she transferred the heated boxes into plates and carried them to the table.  Such was their Christmas dinner.  She and Ross had so many plans for this festive occasion, but without him she hasn't been feeling festive at all.  Still, she owed her kids the season's festivities.  She felt guilty enough that she hasn't been much of a mother to her children for the past two weeks, leaving them in the care of aunts and uncles who were more than willing to help.  So tonight, she was going to try again. 

A wry smile escaped Rachel's lips as she surveyed the un-Christmassy dinner she had set up for her and her children.  She knew she should have just let Monica and Chandler take James and Emma with them.  She felt bad because she didn't even think about her children when Monica invited them over for dinner.  Knowing that she'd just be all depressed and ruin everyone's holiday, she flat out refused her friend's invitation.  Monica didn't even bother insisting anymore; she knew Rachel was really hard to talk into doing anything much lately, so she said nothing more.

Rachel sighed as she lit the three dinner candles on the table, wiping the tears that had begun to fall with her free hand.  She scolded herself, telling herself to stop wallowing in self-pity.  Ross isn't there; and perhaps he'd never be back home again.  Accepting that fact is now a must, not an option.

Gathering all the strength she could muster, Rachel went to the adjacent family room to call her children.  Instead of flashing the smile that she intended to give the kids, she cried harder when she saw them.

Standing on a step stool, James was hanging red Christmas balls on the low, branchy indoor plant in the corner of the room.  Emma, wearing a Santa hat that Rachel could only assume as James' idea, was crawling back and forth from the plant to the table where the rest of the Christmas balls were scattered about.  Because of the tragedy that struck them, Rachel and everyone else obviously forgot about setting up the Christmas tree; but obviously the children didn't—at least, James didn't.

Touched by the scene that greeted her, Rachel quietly walked into the room and sat in the far corner chair to watch the children work for a while.  The two were so engrossed with what they were doing that neither of them noticed their mother until Emma crawled back to the table to retrieve another Christmas ball.

"Ma-ma, twee."  Emma beamed brightly and pointed to their 'Christmas tree.'  The girl then went into a long gibberish explanation that her mother couldn't even understand, but Rachel laughed.  For the first time in two weeks, Rachel laughed a real laugh despite her tears.

Rachel sighed, suddenly wishing that Ross were there to see their children that very minute.  Ross would have loved to see this, she thought sadly.  Without a second thought, her hand immediately reached for a disposable camera hidden in the drawer of one of the corner tables and she took a 'stolen' shot of the sight.  She took another one, and yet another one until she nearly finished half of the roll.  By the time she finished taking pictures, the kids were about done with their 'Christmas tree.'

Noticing James' favorite 'star,' Rachel picked it up and offered to help put it on top of the 'tree' since James was hardly of height to reach the top yet.  "Do you want me to put this on top?" she asked the boy.

"Oh no," James replied with surety.  "I'm still gonna wish on Starly so Daddy will get better so he can come home soon…because me and Emma miss him…Mommy, can we go see Daddy tonight?  It's Christmas and he's not here…" he finished on a sad note, his face down.

Rachel smiled weakly upon hearing what the boy wanted to wish for.  Over the last two weeks, she had learned to give up on that wish.  She would give anything just to have her husband back, but reason and practicality already confined her faith into the realm of unbelief.

"So…Starly, huh?" Rachel asked, changing the topic as soon as James requested to see his father.

"Yeah."  James proudly nodded, holding up his lucky star.  "Starly is what I named my wish star."  He sighed and then looked his mother in the eye.  "So, can we go see Daddy tonight?"

Before Rachel could say another word, the doorbell rung.  Thankfully, it rung.  She wasn't ready to answer the boy's question.

"Daddy!" James exclaimed excitedly as he rushed to get the door.

Hearing the word "Daddy," Emma happily followed her older brother and crawled her way out of the room.  "Daddddsss!"

Rachel dragged her feet as she followed her children.  Silently, she wondered how she could explain to them that their father couldn't possibly come home, that Ross just might never come home again.  Her heart went out to them because she knew that disappointment only lies ahead and yet the two are still very hopeful.

Fortunately, the blow of disappointment was somewhat cushioned when Santa, worn by Joey, appeared on the front door.  "Yee-haw!" Joey greeted in a cowboy-like fashion.

"Joe, I think the word is Ho," Phoebe, dressed like an elf, whispered as she appeared behind 'Santa.'  "Well, Merry Christmas kids!" she greeted cheerfully, sharing her joy and optimism to everyone inside.

Rachel smiled as she watched the two children squealed with delight at the sight that surprised them.  Gratefully, she gave both her friends an appreciative nod, and the two guests returned her acknowledgement with a warm smile.

"You're so lucky Joey and I are still single," Phoebe joked as she gave Rachel a hug, stepping in from the cold.

"What are you talking about?" Monica's voice was heard.  Less than a second later, Monica appeared with two reindeer horns and a big red nose.  "I'm married but I can still do these kinds of things."

Rachel laughed softly.  "And I suppose you're Rudolph," she greeted her friend with a hug, tears and all.

"You bet your ass I am!" Monica exclaimed a little too loudly, much to the chagrin of the mother whose son was attentively listening.  "Merry Christmas, hon…Do you really think we're going to let you three celebrate Christmas on your own?"

"Thank you…" Rachel mouthed, so grateful to have her friends around throughout this whole trying time.

"Ass," James muttered amusedly, nodding his head at his newly learned word.

"James."  Rachel raised her voice, arching her brow as she looked down at her son.

"Yes, mommy?" James asked innocently.

"I don't want you repeating that word again, do you hear me?" Rachel said firmly.

"What word?" came another 'innocent' reply.

Monica grinned at Rachel sheepishly as she led the boy inside the house.  "I'll take care of it…"  Just as she was about to go in, she stopped as she seemingly remembered something.  "Umm, honey, aren't you coming in?" she called out to her husband.

Soon, Chandler came to view, dressed in a pink bunny costume.  "Hi," he greeted lamely.

"I'm sorry…Aren't you a little too early for Easter?" Rachel managed to joke.

Chandler rolled his eyes.  "I'm the Christmas bunny, okay?  Joey got the Santa so I got stuck with the last costume in the store."

Upon seeing Chandler in the large pink bunny costume, Emma's eyes widened in fear and the toddler began crawling away, screaming, "No!  No!"

"Emma, don't go!" Chandler called after the girl.  "It's me, Uncle Chandler!"

Everyone else followed, laughing as they tailed behind Chandler and Emma.

Rachel sighed as she watched everyone vanished into the house.  She didn't even need to lead them inside.  They were all familiar with her house anyway.  Joey and Phoebe, and especially Monica and Chandler had practically lived there for two weeks.  Day in, day out, they would be there, depending on their work schedules.  The only time they would go home was when they needed to pick up more clothes or if they have appointments they really couldn't miss.  She was grateful for them and what they had sacrificed for her.  If it weren't for them, she didn't know where she would be right now or what would have happened to her children during all those times that she would just break down and cry.

Quietly, she snuck out into the snowy world outdoor.  Rubbing her arms, she looked up at the dark skies and swallowed the lump in her throat, waiting for her aching emotions to pass.  The snow continued to fall, but they weren't as comforting as they seemed when she was watching them from her kitchen window.  It wasn't soothing; it was biting as the frozen flakes touched her face.  "I guess things don't always turn out the way we want them to be…" Rachel sighed, wiping the single tear that had managed to escape out of the corner of her eye.  She would have loved to celebrate this occasion with Ross, but unfortunately, she couldn't.  They have a very long bridge to cross and she didn't even know if that bridge would ever end or if it even still existed.

Maybe she wished too much for a miracle to happen, or perhaps she didn't wish enough.  As Rachel made her way back inside the house, she took one final look at the starless dark skies above.  "There are no stars out…" she noted sadly.  With a deep, rueful sigh, she let herself inside the house and closed the door.  At the very same moment, a small gray cloud shifted and revealed a faint white light in the night sky that had been there all along.  She just didn't wait long enough to see it.

=====

A week after Christmas, a few selected close friends and family gathered at the hospital to see Ross for one last time.  It wasn't the best way to welcome the New Year, but Rachel felt that she must do what she had to do.  Ross had suffered enough, and she didn't want to prolong his misery if keeping him on life support if it was of no benefit to him anymore.  So, she finally decided it was time to pull the plug.  It was the most painful decision she ever had to do, but it was necessary and probably the most beneficial for all of them in the long run.

Tears of sadness flooded the private ward as Ross' parents and close friends bid their final farewell.  It was heart-wrenching and very agonizing to watch so Rachel stayed outside the room with her two children to protect them from witnessing such distressing sight.  She wanted James and Emma to see their father for one last time, but she didn't want them to remember it as a depressing experience, so she kept them out.

"Mommy," James tugged at his mother's pant leg anxiously.  "Can we go in and see Daddy now?"

Rachel forced a smile.  "Just hang on a second, James.  When Aunt Monica comes out, then we'll go in to see Daddy, okay?"

The boy nodded and then sighed, folding his hands over the backpack that was sitting on his lap.

A minute later, Monica appeared out in the hallway.  Her eyes were red and her cheeks were damp, but she had on a smile.  Whether it was a smile of relief or comfort, Rachel didn't know.  All she knew was that she had to prepare herself for, perhaps, the most painful thing out of this whole ordeal: letting go...

One by one, the friends came out of the room until it was only Monica that was standing by the doorway.  When her eyes met Rachel's, she gave her a brief nod, letting her know that she would be there for her best friend all the way through.

Rachel inhaled deeply.  Shifting Emma in her arms to take hold of James' hand, she proceeded into the private ward.  James was a little fearful at first, clutching tightly to his mother's hand.  Unable to recognize his still unconscious father in cast, gauze, and some needles, the boy turned his head away and clung to his mother's leg, not quite wanting to get any nearer to the 'thin stranger.'  "Mommy, can we go?  I wanna go see Daddy…Not him…" the boy cried.  Even Emma didn't recognize her father, burying her face against her mother's neck and keeping silent the entire time she was in the room.

"Hey, hey," Rachel tried to calm the frightened preschooler.  "That's daddy…see…"  She pointed to Ross as she took the boy closer to the bed, letting him step on a chair so he could take a closer look at his father.  "See, Emma, that's Daddy…He's just resting, but that's Daddy…" she explained.

James slowly lifted his head when his mother led him up on the step stool so he could sit on the bed.  Cautiously, he took a closer look at the sleeping 'stranger' and wrinkled his forehead.  "I guess so…" he whispered a moment later.  "But why is his head wrapped in toilet paper?"

"That's not toilet paper, sweetie," Rachel corrected, smiling that same bittersweet smile that had become a part of the face she forced herself to show her children.  A smile was the farthest representation of what she was truly feeling right that moment, but it was the most proper thing to show if she wanted to stay intact all throughout these last few minutes.

"But it is!" James stubbornly insisted.  "See, it's just thick toilet paper," he pointed out, touching the bandage wrapped around his father's head to further prove his point.  "It's toilet paper, mommy."

Rachel smiled at her son tenderly.  "Okay, fine.  It's thick toilet paper if you want to insist that it is…but it's not…really, it isn't."

"Mommy, is daddy hurting?" James asked solemnly a moment later.

"I don't know…" Rachel tearfully replied, meeting Monica's eyes across the room for much-needed support.

With a sigh, James leaned down and pressed his cheeks against his father's chest.  "I miss you Daddy…Don't worry; you'll get better soon.  I promise…"  Then, abruptly, he jolted up into a sitting position and whispered to his mother.  "Is it okay to talk to him?"

Too choked up with emotions, Rachel only managed to smile and nod.  When the boy resumed his 'talk,' she sat quietly on the chair next to the bed and simply listened as the boy animatedly told his father stories of his recent affairs.  Rachel was amazed at how the boy could carry on as if everything's perfectly fine and normal.  He didn't even seem bothered by the fact that his father wasn't responding to his stories; he just kept on gabbing as if Ross was just there aware and listening.

Finally, after his lively chatter, James finally sat up and let out a long exhausted sigh.  "Okay, I'm done.  Why is he still sleeping?" he asked innocently, his brown eyes full of unspoken questions.

"I think daddy's just really tired," Rachel told her son, smiling through her tears as she touched the boy's cheek.  "So I guess we're just going to have to let him have his… sleep…" she trailed, swallowing the heavy lump in her throat.

James furrowed his brow, and with one determined smile, he took off his backpack and pulled out a gold-plaited star from it.  As per habit, he closed his eyes and held the star close to his chest.  "I wish daddy will get better soon.  Please, please Starly…I'm stubborn.  I believe."  Peeking with one eye open, he watched for any movements from the unconscious father.  Nothing.  So, he gave Starly another try.  Again, the same thing happened: nothing.

"Why aren't you working?" James impatiently scolded the lifeless star.  "You're supposed to work!  I practiced you everyday!"  Frustrated, he slapped the star with his hands and cried, "Work!  Work!"

Monica rushed to Rachel's aid and took Emma from her friend's arms so the grief-stricken mother could attend to her son.  Rachel immediately took the star from James and hugged him close to comfort the distraught child.  She didn't know how to explain to the boy that it was just an ornament, that it couldn't make wishes come true.  On the other hand, no matter how hard she tried to explain that to the boy, she knew that come tomorrow, James would hold the star again with renewed faith and hope that Starly could make his wishes come true.  "It's okay James…It's okay…" Rachel whispered to soothe the crying child.

"I'll take him outside…" Monica offered a minute later.  She thought Rachel could really use a break from all these emotional turmoil.

Rachel smiled at her friend and released her child to her.  She was so grateful to have Monica around.  She didn't know how she would be able to keep what little sanity she has left if she was completely alone in this.

As soon as Rachel heard the door clicked, she stepped closer to her Ross's bedside.  "You're not being fair, do you know that?" Rachel cried softly, scolding her husband.  "You promised you're never gonna leave me, but what are you doing now?  We need you, Ross…I need you…Please Ross…"  Her voice was desperate, hopeless.  She pulled the chair nearby, sat on it, and cradled Ross' limp hand in hers, touching it to her damp cheeks.  "No leaving, no giving up, remember?" she reminded him.  "Ross, dammit, please say something…" she begged, kissing his hand.  She sobbed and waited for Ross to respond.

He didn't.

Rachel tried again, feeling that surge of hope to keep trying until something happens.  She made a decision to finally let Ross go, but it didn't mean that she was ready to let him go.  She didn't think she'd ever be ready to do that.

After her futile attempts to call her husband to life, the door finally flung open and Dr. Krauss, another doctor and a couple of nurses came in, shortly followed by Monica who came back to be with Rachel.

It was time.

The doctors gave Rachel a sympathetic nod, and soon, she felt Monica's hand on her shoulder.  Rachel turned her tear-stained face to her best friend, and Monica gave her a weak nod and a small smile.  She looked at Ross and bit her bottom lip, fighting so hard to keep her emotions contained.

When a nurse finally stepped in front of Rachel, Rachel was finally forced to let go.  Ever so gently, she laid Ross's limp hand back down to the bed.  She took a deep breath and reluctantly, took a step back, clutching Monica's hand firmly in her own.  With her other hand, she laid it across her stomach, silently wondering if she could really stay in the room and watch Ross die.  She could already feel her stomach churning, but she wanted to stay, wanted to be with him to the very last minute.  So, she stayed and watched.  As painful as it was, heart beating rapidly, she stood there and watched everything.

The doctors did their per customary routine.  They checked the machines.  They checked Ross's vital signs.  Then, they looked at Rachel, and after that one warning look, without even saying another word, they turned off the machines one by one, finally releasing the still patient from the torturous grasp of life…

To be continued… 


	4. Wishes 3

**Wishes**

three

=====

Ross didn't struggle.  His chest didn't heave violently up and down as the last pull of breath pulled him out of the world of the living. Instead, his chest moved, as surprising as it was to everyone in the room, rhythmically…up, down, up, down...

Slowly…

Steadily…

Continuously…

The doctors furrowed their brows, and then glanced up at Rachel.  They glanced at their wristwatches, and slowly, their puzzled frown turned into a big smile.

"Well," Dr. Krauss began, "I guess if it's not your time, it's not your time."  He smiled, looking relieved.  "I guess your husband, in a way, did want to get out life support, Mrs. Geller…because he didn't need it anymore," he joked.  "He's one stubborn fighter," he smilingly commented.

Rachel couldn't believe her ears.  She couldn't believe her eyes.  Her hands immediately went to her mouth as she gasped for joy.  Ross is still alive, and that very thought thrilled her soul.  She couldn't remember what happened next.  The next thing she knew she was jumping and screaming with joy, hugging Monica, unable to contain her excitement.  Tears never left her eyes, but this time, they were tears of joy.

=====

"I knew Starly's gonna make my wish come true!" James announced animatedly, showing no signs of slowing down as he sat up in his racecar bed, already clad in his pajamas and holding Starly so close to him.

The boy's excitement was infectious that Monica and Chandler soon found themselves laughing as they tried to tuck the hyperactive boy to bed.  Having no children of their own, the couple loved Ross and Rachel's children as if they were their own.  Monica adored little James, while Chandler had recently developed fondness toward baby Emma.  So all this time that Rachel needed help with her children, Monica and Chandler, not once, minded helping.  Watching the kids for Rachel was not an obligation—never was one.  Instead, the couple considered it a privilege.  They were really more than happy to take on the roles of doting aunt and uncle whenever they could.

"I hate to spoil your excitement, but Chunky-Monkey, it's past midnight and you have got to go to sleep," Monica told the boy in a mock-stern tone.  "Your Mommy would be calling in from the hospital any minute now and she's gonna be sooo mad if she finds out that you're still awake…"

"But you're not gonna tell, are you?" James pulled his best cute face, knowing what works well with his very doting aunt.

"Oh no!" Chandler shook a finger at the boy.  "You're not gonna fool us with that look again."

James giggled.  "Pleasy-please???"  He tried again, this time putting forth his clasped hands before Monica and Chandler, begging.  "I just want to remember all my wishes that come-d true because I'm afraid I'll forget them when I sleep …"

Monica smiled sweetly and rumpled the boy's dark hair.  "Then maybe you should just write it down so you won't forget…" she suggested.

"You think?" The boy asked incredulously.

"Of course," Monica replied, bringing her feet up on the bed.  "See, with me, when I want to remember something, I write myself notes so I'll remember them in the morning…"

"Yeah," Chandler wryly added, "And she uses different colors of post-its too.  Pink for urgent, green for grocery stuff, yellow for appointments, and so on…"

Monica rolled her eyes at her husband's remark, but right away brought her attention back to her attentive nephew, who looked as if he was mentally taking note of everything she was saying—and perhaps, he was.  "Anyway," she began again, "I was thinking, maybe you can try that Chunky-Monkey…"

"But I don't know how to spell yet.  I only know how to spell my name."  James wrinkled his forehead, half-convinced.

"Oh that's no problem!" Monica encouraged.  She pulled the nightstand drawer open and was actually surprised to find a pen and a small notebook there.  She took it out and turned it to a blank smooth page.  "Here, I can help you start it up.  I mean, pretty soon, you're going to be the master of spelling and you'll be able to do this on your own…"  She smiled at the boy and positioned her pen.  "Okay, maybe we can start with writing what your wish was.  Then, we can add the dates of when you wished for it and when your wish came true.  Then, maybe we can arrange everything in columns…"

"Is Aunt Monica having fun yet?" Chandler mockingly teased, watching the organized Monica come to the surface.  He rolled his eyes half-mockingly.  "Mon, he's just a kid!" he reminded his wife.

"Yeah? So what?" Monica countered defensively.  "He likes it.  Don't you James?"

James shrugged his shoulders.  "I don't mind…"

"You Gellers are all the same," Chandler commented sardonically.  He was going to say more, but the sound of Emma's whimpering from the next room interrupted him.  "Uh-oh…" he mumbled worriedly.  "I thought she was already asleep…I bet she's still looking for Daddy…"

"Do you want me to get that?"  Monica stood up, her face to the wall where the sound was coming from.

"No, it's okay," Chandler replied, stopping his wife before she could make another move.  "Uncle Chandler can handle it."  Before Emma's cries could get louder, he disappeared into the hallway.

Monica smiled ruefully as she watched her husband scurried off to get Emma.  As much as she convinced herself to accept the fact that she and Chandler just might never have children of their own, it still hurt like hell to know that they couldn't.  They have yet to continue their discussion about the possibility of adoption, which was called to a halt when Ross's accident happened.  Monica didn't really mind the interruption; in a way, she was glad it did happen.  She needed the time to adjust to the delicate matter because turning to adoption as their last result to having children was just a painful reminder that her long time, most wished-for dream—to have a child of her own flesh and blood—might forever remain unrealized.

"Aunt Monica?" James snapped his aunt back to reality.  "My wishes?"

"Oh right," Monica muttered, turning her attention back to the pad and pen in hand.

James touched his cheek, pensive for a moment.  "I forgot when I started wishing for Daddy to get well so I guess we can just start with a new wish…but don't forget to write down Daddy got better today, okay?"

Monica nodded and smiled, writing down 'Daddy got better today.'

"Oh, oh, can you also write 'Thank you Starly'?" James requested.  "Mommy said when someone does something nice to you, you should say thank you.  So I want to thank Starly."

A soft chuckled escaped Monica's throat.  "Okay, we'll write down 'Thank you Starlight,'" she spoke out loud as she wrote.

"No, it's Starly.  Not Starlight," James firmly corrected.

"Yes, boss…"  Monica smiled, writing down 'Starly' without even bothering to cross out the word 'Starlight.'  "Anything else?"

"Umm…" James thought out loud.  "For my next wish, I want to wish that Daddy will come home soon."  Remembering his wishing star, he took Starly and mumbled his wish verses.

Monica smiled at the boy, and after she had finished writing what James had asked her to, she set the pad and the pen on top of the nightstand.  "Well, now that we're done wishing, can we go to sleep now?"

James sighed gloomily, looking out the window as if he was about to cry.  "Is Mommy not coming home yet?  She tucks me in…"

Monica pushed the boy's head down to the pillow.  "I know that," she stated as a matter-of-factly.  "But what did Mommy say before we went home?"

"Be a good boy for Aunt Monica and Uncle Chandler," James repeated from memory.  He sighed, defeated, shifting in his bed until he found a more comfortable position.  "I wish Daddy will come home soon.  I don't like things around here anymore…It's different…"

"You don't like Aunt Monica, Uncle Chandler, Aunt Phoebe, or Uncle Joey?" Monica asked half-jokingly.

"I like you…all of you…"  The boy blushed.  "I just like things better when my Mommy and Daddy are home all the time…" the boy wistfully replied.

"I know…"  Monica smiled affectionately, pressing her cheek against the boy's cheek.  "Don't worry Chunky-Monkey," she reassured the child.  "Everything will be okay…"  At least, she was hoping that things would turn for the better from this moment on.

=====

One week later, Rachel was nervously clinging to Monica's hand for dear life as she sat in the middle of the doctor's office, looking around the different scans against the light-lined walls of the small room.  The scans carried about an eerie feel to the room, and surprisingly, made the office seem creepier than the already hair-raising O.R. waiting area that Rachel had sat in while the doctors performed another two-hour surgery on Ross earlier that day to repair some parts of his brain that had swollen or just needed some sort of damage-prevention.  The surgery, she was fine with; but its results thereof were what had been racking her nerves.

"As you can see in this scan," the doctor continued to explain, "the impact of the accident caused some injuries to different parts of his brain—some that surgery wasn't able to fix.  As of now, we have yet to determine whether the extent of these damages is permanent or temporary.  His rather unforeseen recovery can indicate that they won't be permanent damages, that some of the swelling may actually shrink on their own…like the clot he had that, for a short time, blocked off that part of his brain that controlled his breathing…but then, we can never be so sure…"

"So if most of his injuries are brain-related, is my brother going to remember stuff?" Monica asked worriedly when she noticed that Rachel had become too dumbfounded to even speak.

"More likely than not," the doctor carefully replied.  "Should he suffer some type of amnesia, it would only be for a short period of time.  He might forget a few things here and there for a week or two, but that's about it.  We're really more concerned about the effects his injury is going to cost his daily normal functions."

"Like?"  Monica bit her lip, unknowingly squeezing Rachel's hand tighter with her own nervousness.  The doctor's words were like a suspense/thriller movie, so she couldn't help but.

The doctor studied his file for a few seconds and then replied.  "Like balance and equilibrium, reflex motor movements, maybe vision, language," he named a few.

"So basically, what you're saying is that he'll become paralyzed," Monica finally asked the inevitable.

The doctor was careful to make a reply, but he told them the sad truth.  "Yes…perhaps…"

"Mentally?"  Monica asked hesitantly.

"It's too early to tell…It might seem like that sometimes because he will have to relearn a lot of things that he used to do…grooming, eating on his own type things," the doctor answered.  With a deep thoughtful sigh, he continued in hopes to offer some kind of enlightening in this depressing ordeal.  "But like I said, we don't know if the damages are permanent or just temporary.  In some cases, regardless of the damages, the patient just relearns the functioning he's lost.  In some cases, a patient never fully recovers.  Hopefully, with Ross, with the proper therapy and medication, he'd be back to normal in no time."

"How long is 'in no time'?" Monica pressed again.

"I'm sorry.  I can't give a definite answer.  It varies from person to person.  But he's definitely going to need therapy…and with his situation, I recommend that you admit him to a full-scale nursing facility where services are available 24 hours a day.  It's going to be tough, so you're going to need a lot of patience…"  He gave the two women a sympathetic smile as he handed them a stack of brochures, and then stood up when his pager beeped.  "I'll leave you two alone for few minutes so you can look up brochures about the possible therapies available…I'll come back again later if you have any more questions…"

"Thank you," Monica replied politely before the doctor left the room.  Sighing, she turned to her friend.  "Hey, are you okay?" she asked softly, rubbing Rachel's shoulder.  "Don't worry…the doctor said that this is possibly just temporary," she told her, hoping to ignite the much-needed spark of hope again.  "C'mon, Ross will get better in no time…He'll come out of this…"

For a seemingly long time, Rachel remained quiet.  Her face was rigid; her eyes distant and devoid of tears.  She just didn't know what to think anymore.  She had thought that her hurdle was over, but apparently, it hasn't even begun.  Her innermost thoughts were immediately filled with fear, doubt, and uncertainty.  Ross might never return to the same Ross she knew, loved, and married.  The thought was disconcerting, and somehow, it didn't feel any different from when she found out that he was not going to make it.  She wanted to be positive about this, but optimistic hopes were aloof to her.  Slowly, she turned to face Monica and released a long gloomy sigh.  "Monica, what if he doesn't?"

=====

The sun peeped through the thick hospital curtains and illumined Ross's bony features as he lay motionless on the bed.  Though wide-awake, his face was blank and his eyes were distant.  He was staring at the ceiling, blinking occasionally, but that was the extent of things that he could actually do.

Gingerly and with a bittersweet smile, Rachel stroked Ross's cheek with the back of her hand.  A tear rolled down her cheek and fell on Ross's face, making it seem as if he was crying with her.  But he wasn't.  Rachel would have been so glad if he was, but he wasn't.  Ross was a practically like a living dummy.  He was breathing, but he wasn't feeling.  He was staring, but he wasn't processing a single thought.  That was what the doctors told her.

Pulling her composure, Rachel forced herself to face the pressing matter at hand: what to do about Ross now.  The second phase of Ross's recovery apparently wouldn't get any easier, so she was forced to make a decision that could very well impact her family's life tremendously.  The doctors suggested that Ross be admitted full-time to a nursing facility while waiting for him to recover, but she wasn't sure if that would really for the best of all.  She, for one, couldn't stand to be away from Ross any longer, but if she took him home, she wasn't sure what kind of consequences she and the children would have to deal with.  Change, for a fact, would have to happen whether she wanted it or not.

"Rach, are you okay?" Phoebe finally spoke, interrupting Rachel's thoughts after moments of long silence.  She had been in the room with Rachel, simply watching her; but when Rachel started tearing up, she just had to break her silence.

Rachel pulled herself together and nodded slowly.  She didn't utter a single word for fear that her voice would give her away.  She was far from okay, but it wasn't like Phoebe would be able to do anything if she told her friend that she wasn't.  She was just as confused, just as lost as she was the weeks prior, and she feared that at this point, no one would be really able to help her sort through her growing problems.

"Okay…" Phoebe muttered unsurely.  She could see in Rachel's eyes that she wasn't okay, but Rachel was not telling.  She sighed and stood up, deciding it best to leave her friend alone for now.  Rachel probably wanted to be alone with Ross anyway, she thought hesitantly.  "Well, I'm just gonna go and…"  She stopped and turned back on her heel.  "You know what?  You're not okay and I can't just leave you alone like this until you tell me what's bothering you…"

Rachel laughed timidly.  She really couldn't hide anything from her girlfriends.  Monica and Phoebe could see through her as if she were a transparent glass.

"So spill," Phoebe commanded firmly, but still in an endearing sort of way.  "What are you thinking of?  Can I help?"

"Well, I'm just thinking…"  Rachel stroked the back of Ross's hand as she put her thoughts to words.  "I…I don't know what to do anymore…"

"With Ross, you mean?" Phoebe asked, taking a seat across from Rachel.

Rachel nodded.  "I don't want to just dump him in some nursing facility…"

"But?" Phoebe pressed.  She could sense some hesitation in Rachel's voice so she had to ask.

"But everybody seems to think that that would be the best thing for me to do…" Rachel replied.

Phoebe sighed and reached across the bed for Rachel's hand.  "Then, don't just go with the flow…If you feel like taking Ross home is the best way to go, then do that.  I mean, it's not like he couldn't get therapy from home…"  She shook her head.  "It's not going to be easy, I'm sure, but if you feel like that's the best thing to do, do it…"

"But what if I'm wrong?" Rachel asked, her tone full of uncertainty.

"But what if you're right?" Phoebe countered.  "What if Ross would recover faster with you by his side?  I know that sounds mushy, but let's face the facts: you're Ross's life so being away from you is like being cut off from his life source."

Rachel looked down on the floor and smiled shyly.  "Thanks…"

"It's true," Phoebe shrugged her shoulders.  "This man is head over heels in love with you…I'm sure he's told you that several times…I mean, for crying out loud, you two have two great kids as proof of that love.  Although, I've always wondered why you only have two kids.  I've always thought that you two would have seven babies by now," she continued on more animatedly this time.

Rachel laughed softly.  "Really?  Seven, Pheebs?  But we've only been married for five years…"

"I know," Phoebe replied with much certainty, her blue eyes glowing like that of a child.  "But I was thinking, four of those are twins, so really if you count all the births there would have only been five total.  Three boys, twin girls, and another twin girls…"

Rachel laughed at Phoebe's rather wild imagination.  It was quite a picture that her friend painted, but it was…rather wild.

Phoebe smiled, please with herself.  "See, now you're laughing."

"Thanks, Pheebs…" Rachel replied sincerely.  At such a low point in her life, she could always count on Phoebe and her upbeat attitude to be able to bring a smile to her lips.  "Thanks for being always there for me…"

"Nah…" Phoebe shrugged, smiling.  "But seriously, whatever you want to do, do it.  Me and the gang are all going to be here for you…"

=====

"Home sweet home," Chandler announced cheerfully when he pulled up the familiar driveway a couple of weeks later.

Rachel smiled and affectionately brushed her hand through Ross's hair as he lay on the backseat with his head on her lap.  Tenderly, she stroked his jaw and planted a small kiss on his forehead while Chandler got Joey inside the house to help bring Ross down.  "Honey, we're home," she told him softly, looking deeply into his eyes though the only response she could get was a blank stare.  She sighed and forced herself to smile, to fight that bitterness that has been trying to creep at the back of her mind.  This predicament was harder than she expected, and fear and doubt were starting to battle their way into her thoughts again though she didn't want them.

"Here, come here, big guy," Chandler smiled as he and Joey lifted Ross down to his wheelchair after a little help from Rachel as she pushed Ross into a sitting position.

It was a tedious task, but it got accomplished.

"There you go," Joey said, rubbing his hands together as he tried to catch his breath.  "Yeah, Rach, you're going to need one of those lift things in your house," he remarked lightheartedly.  He didn't mean anything by that remark, but unknowingly and unintentionally, it added up to the fear battling inside of Rachel.

The chill of January air that slapped Rachel's face when she stepped out of the vehicle made her shiver.  As she went around the newly plowed driveway to get the rest of Ross's stuff out, she was unsure if it was really because of the cold or simply because of the dread that life would be different from now on.  The last thing she needed right now was change.  Unfortunately, change had unknowingly crept up to her over the last month and a half and clung to her like second skin.  Before she even has time to breathe it all in, she was already choking up on it.

"You ready for this?" Monica touched Rachel's shoulder and gave her best friend a reassuring smile.

Rachel sighed and slowly began to nod.  "Yeah, I think so…"  She sighed again, shaking off her building fears and doubts about the new life ahead.  Ready or not, there was no more turning back.  She was already at the point where choices were either go or go farther.  She smiled, more relaxed and more sincere this time, and glanced up at the sky above.

The sky was blue, a soothing, calming shade of blue.  Thick puffs of white clouds floated all over the vast blueness of the sky, creating a wonderful tapestry across the horizon.  But, the sun was not out; it was hiding behind the thick ball of cloud.  With a sigh, Rachel lowered her gaze down to the earth and smiled as she slowly sauntered toward her husband.  She planted a kiss on the top of his head and rested her chin there as she gently rubbed his shoulders.  There were no stars out, but at least she still has Ross.  With this thought in mind, she pushed Ross's wheelchair into the house, hoping that she could hold onto this thought for as long as it would take Ross to recover.

=====

Sunlight seeped through the shutters and warmed Rachel's face.  Slowly, her eyes fluttered open and she winced as her eyes adjusted to the light.  She rolled over to her side, turning her back on the bright window.  Then, she smiled.  It wasn't the same big smile that automatically made its way on her lips when she would wake up to Ross's singing in the shower, but it was a smile nonetheless.  It was a smile that was longing to see some hope, a smile that was hoping to wake up to major improvements.

Sighing, she lifted her hand and touched Ross's face.  He was already awake, but he wasn't moving.  He just lay there, staring blankly at the ceiling overhead.  "Good morning…" she greeted softly before she leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek.

It wasn't particularly easy for her doing what she was doing, but she was really trying hard to make the most out of their situation.  She just wanted to have their old life back, to bring back a sense of normalcy after weeks of emotional turmoil.  Today, she was going to try yet again.

With a bright smile to start her day, she fluffed a couple of pillows, bunched them up, and slid them behind Ross so he could sit up.  She sat before him, cross-legged, and cradled his limp hand in hers.  "I'm so glad you're home…" she managed to say, welling up as she kissed his hand.  "You know, at this time of the day, you would have already been in the shower, performing your rather obnoxious concert," she recalled fondly, mindlessly toying with Ross's wedding band that had already become rather loose around his finger.

Ross didn't respond or show any reaction in any other form, so Rachel patiently sighed and continued.  "Anyway…every morning, usually after you shower, you take James out for a walk…" she trailed, carefully studying Ross's blank face.

The doctors told her that she should try to talk to Ross about his life prior to the accident and try to see if Ross would show some signs of recognition of what his life was like.  They weren't sure if Ross has amnesia.  It was hard to tell since Ross was not telling; Ross couldn't speak, gesture, or move for that matter.  But regardless of the seemingly millions of miles of communication barrier between them, Rachel was determined to make him remember every single thing if that's what it would take to get their old life back.

Before she could speak another word, the bedroom door opened and James burst into the room, panting, clad in an inside-out sweater, snow pants, and a new piece of his ensemble: swimming goggles.  "I'm ready!" he announced, hopping into bed to reveal his mismatched socks.

Rachel had to giggle at the boy's attire.  "Jamesy, I'd say you look ready except for the swimming goggles.  What's up with that?"

James grinned sheepishly.  "I watched TV with Uncle Joey the yesterday after yesterday and there's this guy in a snowboard and he has on goggles and me and Uncle Joey thought he looks cool so Uncle Joey said that maybe I should try that look," he explained without pausing to catch his breath.  Then, he looked at his father and wrinkled his nose.  "Why isn't he ready yet?"  Without even bothering to wait for a reply from his mother, hyperactive that he was, he began jumping on the bed.  "Hurry Daddy!  C'mon!  Let's go!  You're gonna be late for work if we don't leave now.  C'mon!"

"Um…James…" Rachel cleared her throat, worriedly glancing at her son then at her motionless husband.  Her son apparently hasn't picked up on the fact that Ross would not be able to do the things that they used to do anymore.  She was worried, scared, of what James's reaction would be once he realized that his father was…different.

"Mommy, why's Daddy just sitting like that?" James asked innocently, sitting down on the bed when he finally noticed his father's unusual inactivity.  "He's not saying anything either…"  He grabbed his father's leg and lightly shook it.  "Daddy?"

The moment that she heard Emma's cries in the next room, Rachel immediately grabbed hold of James' hand.  "Sweetie, c'mon.  Let's just go.  Emma's crying in the next room," she told the boy before confusion totally enshroud his countenance.

"But why—"

Rachel didn't even waited for her son to finish his question.  Without so much as a word, she carried him out of the room and into Emma's nursery.  James wasn't able to do anything.  He wanted to protest, to ask questions, but he was too befuddled to even come up with a complaint or a simple question.  So, lost in confusion, the boy trailed after his mother though he could already sense that something was up, that something was not right.  He held his peace for a little while longer, but the moment that his mother put Emma on the changing table for her nappy change, he opened his mouth again and finally let out his confusion.

"Mommy, what's wrong with Daddy?" James asked, his eyes questioning.

"Yucky, yucky diaper," Rachel pulled a wincing face at Emma, deliberately ignoring James's question.

"Mommy, I said what's wrong with Daddy?" James asked again, raising his volume a notch higher.

"Nothing," Rachel sighed, finally giving James a terse reply, tossing Emma's dirty diaper to the bin.  "Did you sleep well, honey?" she cooed to the toddler, deliberately dropping the talk about Ross once and for all.  She couldn't understand why she wanted to avoid the matter, especially since she knew James was bound to find out about it sooner or later, one way or another.  It was almost as if that information was sacred, restricted only to adults who has enough understanding to comprehend the situation.

"But there is something wrong with him and you're not telling me," James whined, his face no longer hiding the hurt that he felt.  "Are you lying to me?  Daddy said it's wrong to lie…"

Rachel took a moment to catch her breath, closing her eyes as she touched her forehead against Emma's.  Her son was right; she shouldn't lie to him.  Hiding the truth from him might only hurt him more than it would do the good she was hoping it would do him.  She was trying to protect James and Emma, to protect Ross, but she knew one way or another someone would get hurt from all this pretension, so she might as well tell her son now to prepare him for that day should it ever had to come.  She sighed and sat on the rocker close by, taking Emma with her, while James unthinkingly followed.

"James," Rachel began softly.  "Okay, honey, I'm going to tell you what's wrong with Daddy.  I'm not sure if you're going to understand, but try…"

James broke into a slow, confident grin.  "Try me…"

Rachel smiled and touched her boy's cheek.  She sighed, taking a moment to gather her thoughts before speaking again.  "Okay.  Since Daddy's car got hit by that truck, you know already that Daddy had to stay in the hospital, right?"

"Yeah…" James nodded.  "Because he's sick…"

"Right…" Rachel smiled weakly, realizing that she never really told James about the accident because she didn't want the boy to develop a phobia of riding in cars, that all the boy really knew was that his father got sick so he had to stay in the hospital.  "Because Daddy got sick," she echoed sheepishly.  "But you know, it turns out, Daddy is still not that all well right now…"

James grimaced.  "That sucks…"

"I know…" Rachel smiled, glad that the boy was taking it well.  In fact, James was taking it way better that she thought.  "So with that said, I guess I should let you know that until Daddy gets a lot better, he won't be able to do those things that you and him used to do together…"

James looked down on the ground and his shoulders slumped.  "That sucks…" he mumbled under his breath.  Then, he sighed and slowly looked up at his mother and shrugged his shoulders.  "I guess that's okay…I'll just keep on wishing on Starly that Daddy will get better soon…"

Rachel let out a sigh of relief and smiled, playfully pinching the bridge of James's nose.  "Yeah, do that," she told him.  She didn't believe in making wishes upon stars, but she thought there was no reason why her son couldn't.

"I'll do it everyday!" James announced excitedly.

"Sure…" Rachel smiled at her son before standing up to put a more contented Emma on her playpen.  "Can you watch Emma for Mommy while I go prepare breakfast for you guys?"

"Okay!" James replied happily, loving the big brother responsibility that his mother was giving him.

"Thanks, Jamesy-cuckoo."  Rachel leaned down and kissed the boy's head.  "Now give Mommy your swimming goggles because I don't want it around your neck when I leave you to play on your own."  She held out her palm and waited until the boy took the goggles off and placed them gently in her hand.  "And you, Little Miss Ems, can you be a good boy for Jem-Jem?"  She smiled at the happy toddler as the girl grabbed onto to the sides of the playpen for support while she stood up.

"Kay, Ma," Emma replied, smiling sweetly.

Rachel kissed her daughter's nose.  She knew it wouldn't be long before Emma starts talking in short sentences.  She could already hear it in her replies.  She just wished that the girl would give walking a try again.  It has been long overdue, she thought.

"Okay, I'll be back in a few minutes," Rachel told the kids.  "You two behave."

Just as she was about to leave the room, she looked back at the two children and smiled.  If there was one thing left that felt remotely close to normal in her life, that would be motherhood.  With a sigh, she turned on her heel and decided to check on Ross again before she'd head down to the kitchen.  

She re-entered their bedroom quietly and sighed by the doorstep, convincing herself that their current living situation was not as bad as it seems.  "It'll get better, Rachel," she told herself as she strolled back to Ross's bedside, unconsciously stroking her wedding band again.  She smiled at Ross weakly, pitifully, then picked up the pillow that had fallen on the floor.  "See, this is not bad at all…" she convinced herself.  The minute, however, that she pressed her hand on the bed just as she was fixing the blanket around Ross, all the determination, all hopes for a brighter better day, turned sour.  "Oh sh*t!" she cussed irately under her breath as she straightened up, grabbing the nearest towel she could find to wipe her hand dry.  The last thing she expected was for Ross to have this 'little accident' in bed.  This was worse than Emma's nappy changes, she thought.

Gathering her composure together, she took three deep breaths.  "Okay, honey, I'm sorry…I know this is not your fault," she said.  She wasn't even sure if she was talking to Ross or she was just reminding herself that it wasn't Ross's fault that his diaper 'overflowed.'  "Arrgh!" she groaned, running her other hand through her hair as she tried to adjust herself to the situation.

It was a lot harder than she thought…way too much harder.

"No leaving, no giving up…" Rachel whispered softly, reminding herself of the vow she and Ross had once made to each other.  She couldn't give up on him now, she told herself repeatedly.  She sighed and closed her eyes, taking herself back to the place where she and Ross used to believe that they could do anything, to the place where she was still in Ross's arms feeling completely safe and satisfied.  For a moment, she believed again that there was nothing they couldn't take on together.  For a moment, she felt happy, but when she opened her eyes again, it was then that she realized that she was still alone…

To be continued… 


	5. Wishes 4

Wishes 

_four_

=====

Transitioning into the new life had been the hardest on Rachel.  No sooner than a day later, she was faced with the cruel reality of attending to an old 'baby' and bills, bills, and even more bills.  She had no idea how much they have been spending until now.  Since she quit working to have Emma nearly two years ago, Ross had basically taken over all the finances.  But now that Ross couldn't be of much help and with the extra cost that his hospitalization and continuous therapy was adding to their budget, Rachel knew that if she didn't do anything about it, they would be in deep financial trouble very soon.  Ironically, she didn't even have the job to take care of all these 'damned' finances.

Rachel rubbed her temples forcefully to ease the stress a little bit.  A quick glance at the digital clock on the desk told her that it was already way past midnight.  Two o'clock to be exact.  Briefly, she glanced at the schedule ahead of her in the morning.

At 6:00, Ross needs to take his medication.  7:00, Emma and James wake up, but that's not really much of a problem since the kids are generally happy morning people.  By 8:00 she has to get everyone ready for the day.  James needs to be dropped off at the preschool by 8:30, and by 9:00, Ross has to be in the hospital for his rehabilitation treatment.  At 10:00, she has a job interview in a nearby fashion establishment.  At 11:00, she needs to pick up James from school.  11:30, interview with potential nannies.  1:00, James has his piano lesson with Ms. Schneider.  By 3 pm, she has to be in the city for another job interview.  Thankfully, Monica's free from 3 to 5 to watch James and Emma so she doesn't have to worry about her children anymore.  Nevertheless, she has to be back by 4:30 pm because that's when the plumber's coming over to fix up the clog in one of the pipes at home.  6 pm, it's Ross' turn to be picked up from the hospital.

Rachel groaned and leaned back on the large chair.  That was only her schedule between 6 am to 6 pm.  That schedule didn't even cover everything else she needed to do at home afterward.  "This is so hard!" she cried, burying her face in her hands.  The pressure of having had to do everything all at once overwhelmed her—to be a mother, the breadwinner, the caregiver, and everything else in between.  To top it all, she had to do it all alone—at least that's how she felt.

When she finally calmed herself, she stood up and turned off the light in the den.  As per evening habit, she went to the kitchen to wash the mug she used, looking out the kitchen window just as she was doing so.  Again, there were no stars out—at least, none from where she was standing.  Quietly, she wiped her hands dry.  Just as she was making her way out of the kitchen, she saw the answering machine blinking with five messages.  She pressed the play button and one by one the messages echoed in the quiet room.

"Hi Rachel, this is Phoebe.  I just found out that I'm not playing at Central Perk tomorrow night.  So if you need anything after 6 pm, just call…"

Beep.

"That's not the Joey special!" Joey whiningly commented in the background.  "Ooops, sorry…Rach, Joey here.  I have no auditions or plans tomorrow…well, maybe a date…but nah…If you need anything, just holler…"

Beep.

"Uh, yeah, this is Chandler.  You know?  I don't like leaving messages in answering machines?"

Beep.

"Okay, this is me again…I guess you're really not picking up your phone.  Anyway, I have to meet these awfully boring people at work tomorrow so if you need me to call in sick tomorrow, I'd be more than happy to.  Oh, this is Chandler, by the way…"

Beep.

"Hey Rach.  Monica here.  I don't know if Chandler called already, but if you need us, just give us a call, okay?  Take care sweetie…"

Long beep.

"Yeah, sweetie, that's all the messages for today.  I love you…*smooch*"  Ross' pre-recorded voice finished the roll.

All messages touched Rachel, but it was the last non-message that brought back the tears to her eyes.  She missed Ross's voice so much, but it was the one voice that she couldn't hear.  "Ross…" she sobbed, sitting on the cold kitchen floor.  He was so near, yet still so far…

=====

"Rachel, if it's causing you too much stress, then why don't you just send him to some nursing facility?" Amy suggested nonchalantly over dinner in a restaurant a couple of weeks later, as she attempted to introduce a couple of people to Rachel who could possibly help Rachel with her miseries.  Her friend, Hugh Johnson, has good connections in Ralph Lauren, while her other friend, Marisa White, has good connections overall.

Nevertheless, as Rachel sat there listening, she was almost sure that she could have whacked her sister's head right there and then in front of Amy's two friends.  She appreciated Amy's concern, but her nosing around her private life in front of two people she hardly knew, she didn't.  "It's not that stressful really…" she lied, throwing evil glares at her sister when the two other people on the table appeared not to be looking.

"Oh, c'mon!"  Amy rolled her eyes and flipped her blonde hair over her shoulders.  She leaned forward to the table and turned to her friend, Marisa.  "Rachel's husband got into an accident almost three months ago and that sort of left him paralyzed…"

Rachel could feel her cheeks burning with embarrassment.  The last thing she needed was for her life to be discussion of the town, so with all meaning, she kicked Amy under the table to stop her loquacious sister from telling people everything she knew about her life.

"Aw!" Amy complained, throwing an evil glare at her older sister.  "I'm just trying to help!"

Rachel sunk deeper into her seat and took a long deep breath.  Amy never learned to get a cue of when to stop.  If only she had known that Amy's 'help' would come with this kind of price, she wouldn't have accepted her offer to help her at all.  For another five minutes, she sat there, listening to the talk about her pitiful life from the lips of another, which she thought sounded much better being talked about than actually living it.  For another three, she watched Marisa's expression change from pensive to nonchalant, from nonchalant to pitiful, and from pitiful to an 'I'm so glad it didn't happen to me.'  And perhaps after realizing that her true feelings were being too obvious, Marisa flipped her golden tresses and flashed Rachel a small smile, which after so many tries, still came out as pitiful.

Rachel looked away, trying to keep her cool, trying to remain levelheaded despite the seeming ridicule, the unwanted pity, before her.  It was bad enough that she feels sorry for herself.  It was worse when other people do too.

"Actually, Marisa, honey, don't you know someone who runs a pretty good rehabilitation center for those with brain injuries?" Hugh, Marisa's boyfriend, interrupted after keeping his silence for a long time.  His face was serious, but instead of pity, Rachel thought she saw kindness.

Marisa wrinkled her forehead for a minute, and when she finally caught on what her boyfriend was saying, her lips curved up and she nodded.  "Oh yeah…"  She reached across the table and touched Rachel's arm.  "My friend Denise.  She runs this good rehabilitation center and I can assure you that your husband will be well-taken care of there."

Rachel smiled hesitantly, pulling her hand away.  "Umm…thanks, but I don't think I want to put my husband in a home like that…And besides, I don't think it's good for my kids to be away from their father.  I mean, I don't want to play with their relationship, you know.  You know what distance can do sometimes…" she chuckled nervously.  "And…and it's expensive…so really, it's okay…"

"You should, though," Amy pointed out.  "And don't give me that you're-not-stressed-out-crap because you've lost like fifteen pounds in just the last couple of months.  I mean, what about when you start working?  Things are not going to get easier from there…"

"Yeah, thanks for reminding me," Rachel sarcastically replied.

"Rachel, I'm not kidding!" Amy raised her voice.  "Tell her, Hugh…this job at Ralph Lauren…not easy…"

Hugh's lips curved up into a hesitant smile.  "Well…I don't like poking my nose in other people's business, but…yeah, Amy's right.  The job is very demanding and I can tell you this right now, it's going to take a lot of your time…but, you know, the pay is really good…"

Even if the pay is unbelievably wonderful she wouldn't even take the job if she didn't have to, Rachel thought sardonically.  At this point, however, she felt like she didn't have a choice.  Life hasn't been offering her a lot of choices lately anyway.  "I guess…" she mumbled resignedly.

"Besides, you can always borrow money from Dad…" Amy suggested.

"Yeah right!" Rachel mocked.  "And then what?  Listen to him lecture me about how I would have been better off if I married some other rich guy?" She shook her head.  "No, thank you."

"No pressure, Rachel.  If it's the cost you're worried about, that could be worked on…" Marisa spoke once more.  "I'm probably not in the position to give you advice, but think about it.  From what Amy told me, it seems to me that putting your husband in a rehab would be best for your entire family, that everyone could really benefit if you do put your husband in an institution…"

"Well…I don't know…rehab?  He's really not an alcoholic," Rachel tried to joke, nervously running her hand through her hair, releasing a tensed chuckle to re-channel the pressure mounting on her.  These people have it easy to be talking like this, she thought dryly.  She, who was in the actual situation, didn't even know what was best for herself or for her family anymore, how much more they, who only heard about her life within the last fifteen minutes or so?  She gritted her teeth, slightly annoyed.  Yet, though she didn't want to listen to any of their suggestions, a part of her—the already exhausted Rachel—wanted to give them the benefit of a doubt.  What if they were right after all?  What if putting Ross in a nursing facility full-time was the answer to everyone's concerns?  She was, after all, starting to get tired of all this.

With another nervous smile, Rachel excused herself to go to the washroom.  She needed to be away from her company, away from the pressure they, perhaps unintentionally, imposed upon her.  They were putting too much pressure on her and right now, the pressure was more than she could handle.

=====

Rachel parked her car and took a moment to recuperate from the awful evening she just had, pressing her forehead against the cool steering wheel.  All evening long, the job that she applied for wasn't even discussed, but her life sure garnered a lot of "Ohs…" and "I'm sorry's."  Nevertheless, Hugh assured her that he would do his best to make sure that she would get the job…out of pity, Rachel could only assume.

Out of an unexplainable urge, and even perhaps out of a habit, she lifted her eyes to the dark skies.  "There are no stars out," she observed tiredly.  Weird as it may seem, it felt to her as though the stars have all been hiding from her for the last few months.  Every time she would glance up at the skies, she wouldn't find them.  Not even one wanted to shine a glimmer of hope down on her, and the thought was just saddening.

Sighing, she dragged herself out of the car and into the house.  She was hoping that she would find the house in still quietness when she arrived home, but she was just at the doorstep when she heard Emma's cries from upstairs and James' "Go away!" from the living room followed by a loud thud and the loud breaking of glass.

Rachel rushed to the living room and found it in a mess she never expected.  Spilt milk was dripping down from the coffeetable to the tawny carpet.  Cookie crumbs were everywhere.  The sofa was bared off its cushions, which were all haphazardly strewn about the room.  Next to the sofa was a broken lamp, which Rachel assumed where the noise of breaking glass came from.  Behind the couch, the beige curtain was bunched next to the fallen curtain rod, and next to it was James, weeping remorsefully as he held his 'star' to his chest.

"I don't like you….I don't like you…" James sobbed sorrowfully.

"Mrs. Geller, I'm so, so sorry…" the teenage babysitter that Rachel hired for the night appeared before Rachel.  Her face seemed haggard, looking as if she had aged ten years in just the last three hours.  "I was just trying to get your son to sleep, but he—"

"It's okay…" Rachel assured the teenager, giving her a small smile.  It was probably the last time that she would see her, but she couldn't really blame her for not being able to handle James as well as she was hoping the girl would.  James, after all, had become increasingly difficult lately.  "I'll take it from here."  Rachel approached the worried teen and handed her pay.

"Again, I am so, so sorry," the teen apologized again, blushing profusely.

"Go away!" James screamed from behind the couch.

Rachel smiled at the girl and dismissed her with a polite nod.  As soon as the girl left, she sighed and went behind the couch, sitting next to the very upset James.  "Care to explain what just happened here?"

James lifted his tear-stained face and sniffed back a sob.  "She wants to take my star and I'm not yet done wishing on it…" he cried.  "Daddy's still sick Mommy…and-and I want to wish that he'll get better soon…"  His young eyes were anguished, and his voice reflected his deep sorrow.  "But she wants to take Starly from me…I don't wanna sleep Mommy…I wanna make my wish…"

Rachel pulled her son into an embrace and held him close as he sobbed against her chest, already too moved beyond words.  "I'm gonna make my wish Mommy…I'm gonna…" James sobbed repeatedly, causing Rachel to tear up though she was fighting hard not to do so.  She never realized how hard their situation must be for James until now.  She had seen the longing in his eyes every time he would watch their neighbors from the window play with their dads outside, but she thought this never bothered him because afterwards, James would simply shrug his shoulders and say, "I'll wait…"  She thought he was fine with their situation, but apparently, this wasn't the case.  Apparently, the long wait had caught up with the boy as well.

"Ssshhh…" Rachel whispered sweet nothings to the child, kissing his head tenderly.  "It's okay James…No one's gonna take your star away from you…I promise…"

When Emma's cries got louder from upstairs, Rachel scooped the boy in her arms and carried him up with her.  Emma was not in her nursery so she followed the direction where her cries were coming from.

Rachel pushed the door open to the dark master's bedroom, and through the dim bluish glow coming from the light outside, she saw Emma pushed herself up by the bed, her arm reaching desperately to Ross who was sitting in the wheelchair by the window.  The girl was crying.  Crying and calling out, "Dadddsss!"

Then, she walked, or at least she tried again…this time, with no reservation; only determination.

Emma must have taken four steps before she fell on her butt, but determinedly and carefully, she stood up and made tiny steps again toward her father.  "Nigh-nigh, Dadddsss…" she sobbed as she walked towards Ross, her arms reaching out to him as if asking him to take her in his arms.

"Dadddsss!" Emma cried sadly, a notch louder as she patted her father's knee, perhaps in hopes to get his attention.  And when the paralyzed father didn't pick up his child, the crying toddler sat down by his leg and wrapped her tiny arms around him.  "Nigh-nigh, Dadddsss…nigh-nigh Dadddsss…" Emma sobbed repeatedly.

"In due time…" Rachel echoed Ross's words, watching their daughter gave up her fear and tried walking again…to be with Daddy…The sight touched her in so many ways, but mostly, it saddened her.  Emma walked for him, but Ross didn't see it.  Emma cried for him, but Ross didn't hear it.

Ross was so near, but still so far…

Tearfully, Rachel sauntered across the room and sat down on the floor pulling crying toddler close to her.  Emma unhesitatingly climbed into her mother's embrace, next to her big brother, and buried her tear-drenched face in the crook of Rachel's neck as if saddened and disappointed that despite her best efforts, her beloved father didn't stir.  "Emma nigh-nigh Dadddsss…" the toddler whimpered remorsefully, breaking Rachel's heart to millions of pieces.

"I know…" Rachel sobbed quietly with the girl.  "It's okay Ems…"

Ross was so near, but still so far.  That was the painful truth.  Sad as it was, it was true.

As Rachel comforted her children, she knew she must make another decision.  She was almost too afraid to do so, but she must.  She promised she would do everything to keep Ross at home for as long as it was beneficial for all, but right now it seemed to her that keeping him was only hurting them…hurting the children more especially.  If her family were to stay sane throughout this whole trying ordeal, she knew she must make another important decision.  It might not be something she was most comfortable with, but it might be the best for all in the long run—at least she was hoping that it would turn out that way…

=====

A warm, friendly ambiance greeted Rachel when she stepped inside the building that would be home for Ross for the next few months, or perhaps years, depending on how long it would take him to recover.  The place reminded her of the gang's hangout in the city, Central Perk, for some reason—minus the coffee, cakes, muffins, and doughnuts.  "Must be the couches," she noted as her eyes scanned the reception lobby.

Couches seemed to be the running theme of the lobby.  In almost every corner, there was an oak coffeetable surrounded by couches arranged much like the same way as the gang's 'spot' in Central Perk.

As if reading her mind, Monica was the first to speak up.  "Hey, this could be our new hangout," she joked.

"I know!" Chandler agreed.  "It's like Central Perk minus the coffee."

"And Gunther," Joey added.  Like a little boy, he scanned the crowd with excitement.  "I'm so happy!"

Rachel smiled, listening to her friends' conversation.  Instinctively, she leaned forward and pressed her lips on Ross's head as he sat in his wheelchair.  "Do you think you're going to be okay here?" she asked him though she knew he wouldn't reply.  In a way, she had already gotten herself used to such one-sided conversation.  She would talk to Ross, but mostly so she could vocalize her thoughts.  And this time, she was wondering if Ross was going to be okay in that place.

A light touch on her shoulder interrupted Rachel's quiet reverie.  She turned her head and found Hugh standing there next to Marisa.  "Your husband's room is ready," Hugh kindly announced.  "Marisa and I made arrangements with her friend so that he'd get a private room but still for the price of a shared room," he continued to explain.

"Thanks," Rachel replied, finding it surprising how her sister Amy ended up with friends as nice as this couple was—or at least as nice as Hugh was.  Marisa was nice, but she still struck her as superficial.

Within minutes, they were led into the elevators and into Ross's designated room.  It was small, but it was nice and clean—much to liking of Monica, who approached the cleaning lady as soon as she spotted her.  There was a window on the corner that afforded a wide view of the pond down below.  The window was actually a nice touch, letting in a nice amount of sunlight in the room, making the yellow walls appear brighter than they already were.  It reminded Rachel of Emma's nursery actually.

Rachel smiled and glanced down at Ross, trying to gauge a sense of recognition in him.  She didn't see any, or if there was, she missed it totally.  It was really hard to read anything in his blank stare.

A tour of the rehab followed, and by the end of the afternoon, now back at the main lobby, Rachel was convinced that Ross would be in good hands in that place.  She felt more relaxed, but still a big part of her didn't want to just leave her husband there.  She felt like she was betraying him, like she was turning her back on him.  Without even thinking, she brought her right hand to her left hand and touched her wedding band.  She didn't know why she did that; she just felt that it was the most appropriate thing to do right that minute.

"You okay?" Hugh asked as he handed Rachel some forms for her to fill.

"Yeah…" Rachel nodded, hesitantly taking the forms from Hugh's hands.

"Great."  Hugh smiled, draping an arm around his girlfriend.  "I guess Marisa and I are gonna get going then.  We still kinda have a date…I think everything's all taken care of except for the forms…so after you fill these out, just hand them to the receptionist over at the counter and you're set."

"Thank you so much Hugh, Marisa for all your help…" Rachel replied, truly grateful for the help given her.  Hugh has a very kind heart; there was no doubt about that.  Marisa?  Not so much.  Rachel wasn't sure what it was about her, but she didn't like the woman.  Rachel smiled, shaking her head as she refocused her attention back to the forms.  She had far better things to do than to come up with a reason why she disliked Marisa.  She took a seat on one of the couches, throwing occasional glances at her husband as he was entertained by Chandler and Joey by the large window overlooking the large pond.  She had no idea what the boys were telling him, but Chandler and Joey seemed to be enjoying themselves.

"Hey," Monica interrupted less than a second later.  "Hot Hugh's gone?" she joked, taking a seat next to her best friend.

Rachel arched a brow.  "Hot Hugh?"

Monica rolled her eyes.  "Oh, c'mon!  Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about.  That man is ho-o-ot!"  She dropped her jaw to further emphasize her point, pretending to drool.  "If Hugh Jackman ever needs a double, he should audition because he sure looks like him."

Rachel shrugged her shoulders and laid the forms on the coffeetable.  "I guess he's okay…I mean, sure, he's attractive, but that's like pretty obvious so I find it unnecessary to comment about it…It's like telling Joey, 'Hey, meatball sub is good' you know?"

"True…"  Monica giggled. "But you're going to be working with him?"  She sighed dreamily.  "Darn it!  I wish I'm not married and am in fashion!"

Rachel shook her head, laughing.  "Does Chandler know about this?" she joked.

Monica laughed, shaking her head.  Not really and it wasn't like Chandler needed to know about it.  It was just, after all, a 'little' crush.  After a moment, her laughter dissipated into a simpler smile.  She sighed.  "So, how are you holding up?  Ready to leave your baby in his new boarding school?" she joked.

"Your brother's gonna get so mad if he heard you said that," Rachel laughingly warned her best friend.

"Nah…" Monica laughed, shrugging her shoulders.  "No, seriously, you okay with all this?"  She reached for Rachel's hand and gave it a warm squeeze.

Rachel sighed, her demeanor becoming more serious this time.  "Well, I kind of have to be, don't I?"

"I'm sorry…" Monica said sympathetically, silently wondering when this hurdle would be over for Rachel.  It seemed as though every time a one ends, another one begins.  She felt so bad for her friend.  She wished there was something else that she could do, but she knew that that something else would only be being there for Rachel.  "Don't worry.  You're going to be fine.  We're all gonna be here for you."

"I know…" Rachel replied with certainty, smiling gratefully.  If there was one good thing that came out of this whole ordeal, it would be that her friendship with these people repeatedly proved itself to be true over and over again.

=====

James pulled the kitchen drawer open and took out a silver spoon and slid it in his pants pocket next to Starly.  His face was serious, almost angry, but full of determination.  He made a stop in the family room, where his sister was playing on the floor.  "C'mon, Emma.  Let's go!" he barked like a commanding officer.  Emma, nevertheless, followed, taking her brother's hand that was offered her.

Hand in hand, the brother and sister walked towards the front door, making a brief stop at the coat closet.  "Stay here, okay?" James told his sister, making her sit at the foot of the stairs while he retrieved their coats from the closet.

A caring big brother to his little sister, James helped Emma put her coat on, zipping her up snuggly just like the way he had seen his Mommy do it.  "Is that good?" he asked the girl, to which Emma replied with a bright smile and a nod.  "Okay, let's go," he whispered this time, glancing down the hallway briefly, afraid that he'd get caught by his Aunt Phoebe who was watching them for the day.

He tiptoed, gesturing Emma to do the same as they went closer to the main door.  Ever so carefully, he put his hand on the knob and then, bam!  Phoebe's footsteps came approaching.

"Where do you think you're going, young man and young lady?" Phoebe demanded in a mock-stern voice, hands on hips, her foot tapping impatiently against the floor.

"Out," Emma replied innocently, looking up at Phoebe, her eyes big and wide.

James groaned in vexation.  He knew he should never have let Emma in on this.  He closed his eyes, taking slow deep breaths.  "Emma's right," he admitted, sighing.  "We're not gonna play!" he pointed out.  "We're just…"

"Yes?" Phoebe asked.  "What are you gonna do outside?"

"Dig," James replied simply, his voice barely audible.

"What?"  Phoebe nearly laughed out loud.  "Dig?" she asked curiously, raising her brow.  "Why? Is there like some dinosaur bone in your front yard?"

James glared at Phoebe.  "No," he replied, annoyed.

"Then what for?" Phoebe pressed, crossing her arms across her chest.  "Because you know…I can't let you out because your Mommy said so…"

James groaned, his frustration growing.  "But it's just outside!" he stubbornly argued.  "Me and Emma are not gonna ride a bus…or car…or train…or truck…or airplane…"

"Then what for?" Phoebe came back with the same stubborn attitude.  "Until you give me a valid reason, I'm not just going to let you go out…"

"Okay, fine!" James grunted.  He shoved his hands in his coat pockets and swayed his right foot from side to side, eyes down on the floor.  "I'm…" he began, slowly this time.  "I'm just gonna bury Starly…"

Phoebe brought a hand to her mouth, stopping herself from laughing out loud.  She never thought she would ever like kids, but she loved Rachel and Ross's children.  She thought they were simply the funniest, most adorable creatures in all of New York.  "Bury Starly?" she echoed, biting her bottom lip.

"Yeah."  James arched a brow as he looked up at Phoebe.  "It's not funny!" he adamantly pointed out.

"You're just one hot-headed child, aren't you?" Phoebe commented as she sat down at the end of the staircase.  "Come here.  Sit," she ordered, tapping the spot next to her.  Emma immediately followed, but James kept his post.  Phoebe smiled, shaking her head at the boy's stubbornness that just reminded her so much of Ross.  "Okay fine.  Be stubborn like your Daddy…You, you little Ross."

"I'm not little Ross!" James retorted defensively.

"Yes you are."

"No, I'm not!"

"You are."

"I'm not!"

"Okay, this could go on forever," Phoebe finally gave up.  "Okay, you can stand there if you want, but why is it you want to bury Starly again?" She had heard all about James and his 'star,' had seen the boy firsthand determinedly made wishes on it.  She was actually awed by his undying determination and will to keep doing it, so she wondered what actually caused the sudden change of heart.

James pouted.  "Because she won't make my wish come true…"

Phoebe smiled inwardly, trying her best not to show it lest it offended the boy's feelings again.  "That's it?" she asked incredulously.

"Yeah," James grimly replied.  "I wish and wish but nothing's happening."

Phoebe sighed and then smiled weakly.  Rachel was already losing hope; there was no way that she would let the boy lose hope as well.  "Look James.  You don't have to bury Starly.  I mean, some wishes just take time before they could come true…"

"Why?" James asked, a thousand other questions on his face.

"Because that's just the way life is," Phoebe replied simply.  "So there'll still be surprises in your way.  Don't you like surprises?"

"Yeah…" James nodded slowly.

"Then just wait," Phoebe suggested.  "Your wish will happen…you'll see…"

James grinned shyly, looking down on the floor for a seemingly long time before lifting his face up to smile up at Phoebe.  "You think?"

Phoebe laughed.  "Hey, when have I ever been wrong?" she joked.

James giggled, bringing both his hands to cover his mouth.  "My Daddy used to say that…"

"I know…" Phoebe smiled sincerely, holding her hand out to the boy, which James took this time.  "So, tell me more about your fake star…" she suggested a minute later.

James smiled and studied Starly in his hands.  Slowly, he looked up at Phoebe, his eyes full of youthful innocence and determination.  Then, he grinned confidently, and said, "Well, first of all, Starly is not fake…"

=====

Darkness descended down upon the earth, seemingly pushing down what colors there were left below the line where the earth touches the sky.  As the day continued to fade into the evening, Rachel couldn't help but silently wonder if she would see any stars tonight.  She had just about given up on the fact that there were still stars out there.

Sighing, she tore her gaze away from the window and watched as the nurses on duty laid Ross down to his bed.  A very strange and inexplainable fear engulfed her being as she stood there, her back to the window, just watching.  It wasn't even the what-if-Ross-never-recovers kind of fear, or the life-would-be-different-again kind.  It was just this fear, accompanied by profound sadness, that she couldn't explain no matter how hard she racked her brains.  She felt so detached to Ross, and that left her, to a great extent, unnerved.  It felt as though that moment was it, that that was the end of the road for them.  She didn't want it to be the end of them.

When the staff had left, she took a deep breath and shook off this uneasy thought that has been boggling her mind.  She approached Ross's bedside and sat down next to him.  Gingerly, she touched his face, outlined his brow, his eyes, his nose, his lips, his chin, memorizing every detail of his face, taking him all in as if it were the last time she'd see him.  Then, she sighed, deep, thoughtful, and full of sadness.  She smiled, but the tears that immediately escaped her eyes gave her away.  "I'm scared, Ross…" she whispered, her voice desperate.  "I don't know if I can do this anymore…I'm so tired…"

It was the first time that she openly admitted her real feelings to him, the first time she admitted to her weaknesses in front of another.

Rachel sighed, pulling herself together, wiping the tears from the corners of her eyes.  "You know it's funny how we used to just be able to say 'no leaving, no giving up' as if that's the easiest thing on earth?"  She smiled a smile that was full of confusion and loneliness.  "It's hard, Ross…"  She drew in a deep breath, taking another long moment to recollect herself.  "And I hate it that I find it hard…I hate myself for finding this hard…"

She looked at Ross's face intently and tenderly stroked his cheek.  "I love you so much, but why do I feel this way?"  Her sorrow was deep…real…She wanted to be stronger, but she came to the realization that, maybe, she couldn't…

A tear fell from Rachel's face and dropped onto Ross's face, sliding from his cheek all the way down to his pillow.  When this happened, Rachel realized that she probably had said far too much, that she probably should never have said whatever she did.  She forced herself to smile and wiped the wet trail on Ross's face dry.  She took a deep breath and then leaned down to plant a tender kiss on his forehead, letting her lips linger there for longer than just a second.  When she pulled herself back up, she stared deeply into his brown eyes, running her thumb delicately right on the corner on the same spot that his eyes would wrinkle whenever he would smile at her.  "I miss you…I miss you so much…I hope you come back soon…"

With a sad, delicate smile on her lips, Rachel picked herself back up and stood up, planting one final kiss, this time on Ross's lips, before she left the room completely.

After the door clicked, a long moment of silence ensued.  No other movement came from the still patient, but just as the first star of the night twinkled as it appeared in the horizon, one tiny teardrop glimmered as it slid down from Ross's face.  This time, it was his own…

To be continued… 


	6. Wishes 5

Wishes 

_five_

=====

Ross shielded his eyes from the blinding glare of the sun when its first rays penetrated the almost bare branches of the maple tree outside his window.  He had sat in that very spot for eight months now, had watched the maple tree grew leaves, changed color, and began its shedding in preparation for winter.  Every morning he sat there, watched the world pass before his wide-open eyes.  Sometimes, he didn't even have to keep his eyes open.  He could close them for the entire day and still see everything going on for every minute that passes.  He had it all committed to memory, had all the details, the routine memorized to the point that he could already see his entire day happen before it could really happen.

He leaned forward slightly, trying to catch a view of George as he walked by the pond.  He glanced at the time: 7 am.  "Right on time, George," Ross muttered in his head, not vocalizing it out loud for, as far as his capabilities are concerned, he could think faster than he could talk.  Every morning, the thin elderly man never failed to take that morning walk, pushing his walker like he would pushing a grocery cart.

Ross smiled, adjusting his wheelchair to another position so he could catch a glimpse of Lea, the teenager on a wheelchair, who like him was injured from a car accident.  Lea always flew balloons every Sunday, and this particular Sunday, Ross wondered what color she would fly this time.  Last week, it was purple.

It was little things like this, simple things like this, that he had memorized—not because he wanted to, but because things like these happen with a great extent of predictability every single, boring day of his life for the past eight months.

He hated it there, but then what could he do?  Taking care of an invalid like him was no easy task, he thought hatefully.  He couldn't blame Rachel if she wanted to put him there.  He could imagine how hard and sordid of an experience it must have been for her taking care of him from home.  For some reason, he could always see this image of Rachel crying and telling him how difficult this whole nightmare had been, how she wanted to give up.  He wasn't sure if he just imagined it or it actually did happen, but every time he'd see this image in his head, he couldn't help but feel disgusted with himself.  He let her down; that was a fact, and that was something he didn't think he could forgive himself for.  He promised to give her the world, but look what happened to that promise.  "Some world I gave her," Ross thought scornfully.

He sighed, taking another brief glance at the digital clock by his bed, trying his best to focus on something else—anything but Rachel.  He refocused his attention back to his 'routine' and predicted that in about two minutes, Loreta, the slightly heavy black woman who always brought his breakfast tray, would come into his room with his usual bowl of bran cereal, OJ, and sliced apple dusted with a little sugar and cinnamon—the scheduled Sunday breakfast for every third week of the month.

Sure enough, two minutes later, Loreta appeared into the room, carrying the breakfast tray of a bowl of bran cereal, OJ, and sliced apple dusted with a little sugar and cinnamon.  Talk about predictability!

Ross smiled ruefully, suddenly missing the unpredictability of Sunday mornings at home.  With Rachel's less than stellar culinary skills, Sunday mornings usually run on an almost-anything-goes basis.  During weekdays, they ran on a strict routine—he and Rachel with toast and coffee, James with Cheerios with milk and strawberries, and Emma with her own baby cereal—but on weekends, especially Sundays, almost anything goes…

A sad smile crossed his face as his eyes focused on the framed photo of Rachel and the kids on his nightstand.  He sighed, wondering what his family was doing at home right that same minute.  Were they thinking about him the same way he was about them, or was that only a distant wishful thinking for him now?  It seemed as though since the accident none of their lives were the same anymore.  None of them were the same anymore…

Rachel had increasingly been becoming the career-oriented type of woman, instead of the sweet homemaker as Ross had always remembered her.  He had seen her with a career before, but this time around, Ross thought Rachel was more driven, tougher, with a whole lot stronger personality.  Ross wasn't sure how it happened, but his wife—if he could still call her that—had somehow evolved into this whole different other woman.  This past month when she visited, she even brought work with her, which left him a little nervous.  Rachel never brought work when she'd visit him before.  Ross wasn't sure if he was just imagining this, but every single week that passes he feels like he's slowly losing Rachel.

James.  The boy had grown taller, and seemed to continue to do so with each passing week that Rachel would take the kids to visit.  Gone was the ardent interest in science, and now it seemed as though sports was rapidly replacing that interest, which wasn't really a bad thing.  Ross had always wished that he had become more athletic growing up; so he was actually glad that James was developing that interest at an earlier age.  He just wished that he could be there when his son would play in little leagues, practices, or even just a simple game with the kids in the neighborhood; wished that he could be there to teach him instead of the athletic 'Uncle Hugh' whom James speaks so highly of almost every week.  Ross had to admit, he does feel a little jealous, envious, when James would talk about Mommy's friend—the great 'Uncle Hugh.'  On the other hand, this feeling has its other roots that he'd dare not wander about.  He has been trying hard not to.  After all, he trusts Rachel—or at least he's been convincing himself that he does.

Emma, his dearest little princess.  The girl changed a lot.  Ross couldn't remember his daughter changing as much as she had these last few months.  Now a hyperactive two-year-old, she could walk, she could run, and she could talk like a nonstop chatterbox.  Every week, she has a new story to tell.  Every week, she has a new adventure.  Every week, she seems to be growing to become more and more independent.  Rachel even told him about how Emma now insists that she be given Cheerios with milk and strawberries just like James, instead of her usual breakfast cereal, because as the girl put it, "I'm a big girl."

Times changed, and they all changed with it…

But perhaps what saddened Ross most about it was the fact that he wasn't there when it all happened.  Now, he was almost afraid that when he gets out of the rehab, he would no longer recognize his own family.

Ross sighed and worriedly glanced at the calendar on the wall.  One more month, he was told.  He was scheduled to be released in a little less than a month.  He could have been discharged from the home this month, but his physical therapist wanted him to be able to at least walk with a walker before she released him, so she kept him for another month.  Ross really didn't mind the extension.  He thought he could use another month to prepare himself for 'that day' because he was sure he would need all the time there is to become reacquainted with the many things, if not everything, that changed in his life…

=====

She was put on hold again.  Rachel could have sworn that if the winter collection distribution didn't go through, she would hunt down this particular group of distributors and kick their ass.  She needed to get this job done by the middle of the week, and with Wednesday fast approaching, the pressure was mounting.  Her promotion was at stake with the realization of this project, so she really wanted to make it a success—not to mention, she would need every cent of her pay raise to pay for all of Ross's expenses for when he leaves the rehab.

"Mommy, James eat my boo-bewy!" Emma whined from the nook, pointing to her older brother who was happily grinning from ear to ear, dribbling the basketball ball he got for his fifth birthday.

Rachel threw James a stern look and sauntered back to the breakfast table, setting a bowlful of blueberries before Emma to stop her whining once and for all.  "James, could you please stop dribbling that ball?  Mommy's on the phone," she told her son impatiently, giving him the warning glare.

James rolled his eyes and stopped, letting ball roll to the far corner of the room until it knocked down a glass of water that Rachel could only assume the boy left down on the floor by the white plant box.

Rachel groaned before resuming her conversation with the other line, grabbing a mop and a dustpan on her way to clean the mess before anyone gets injured.  She was too tired to scold, too tired to talk to the boy about his behavior, so she just continued on without bothering to have a word with her son.  She felt partly to blame for his unruly behavior anyway.  These last few months, her life had been mostly centered on work, when really, it should have been on her children.

"James, nooo!" Emma screamed again, very much annoyed.

"Okay, can you hold for a second?" Rachel asked the other line, taking a couple deep breaths to control her temper.  She waited for nearly half an hour to get through this phone call amidst all the holds she had been put into, but now that she was actually speaking to the person she wanted to talk to, she couldn't even hear her properly because James and Emma's fighting were driving her insane.  She lowered the phone, covering the mouthpiece as she turned to her son.  "James Russell Geller," she gritted between her teeth.  "I swear, if I hear your sister scream one more time, I'm going to take Starly, throw it in the trash, and I won't even let you go out to play for one week."

James' face turned red from pent-up anger, and when he could no longer hold it in, he screamed, tears in his eyes.  "You don't let me go outside to play anyway!  So just lock me in my room and never let me play outside again!  I hate you, Mommy!  I hate you!"

Rachel pulled on her hair as she watched James run out into the hall, listened to his feet bounding the stairs, and winced her eyes at the sound of the loud slamming of his bedroom door.  James's tantrums were no longer uncommon since she began working, but every time he would pull that show, Rachel's insides were wrenching with tattered, mixed up emotions, leaving her feeling like she was the worst mother ever.  She knew she hasn't been the mother she was before, and she felt guilty about it.  But she really had to do this; she had to work to support everybody.  

Rachel drew a deep breath and held the receiver back to her ear.  "Listen, Ms. Brannigan, can I just call you back?" she managed to ask, her voice already breaking.  Before she could even hang up the phone, her tears flowed and her emotions refused to be contained anymore.

Stunned, Emma tore her eyes from the direction James had gone off to and turned them to her mother who was already crying.  "Ma, don't cwy…" she said sympathetically, her eyes misting up, unable to see a sight of another person crying.

Rachel smiled at her daughter weakly, stopping by the child to give her a tender kiss on the head before she headed to the kitchen sink.  She ran the faucet, waiting for another minute for her emotions to let up, to be washed down with the sound of the running water going down the drain.  Then, she splashed some cold water on her hot face, and stared out the open window.

It had been too long, much too long, she reflected sorrowfully.  She had watched the trees in the backyard grew leaves, blossomed, changed color.  Now the leaves were falling and covering the ground…but Ross still seemed so far away…And lately, he's just been acting cold towards her.

"Things are just so different now…" she mumbled blindly as she stared out the window.  The changes had been many and this scared her more than ever.  They all changed, but not because they wanted to, but because they were forced to.  Fate played too cruel a joke on them, and it won.  Sadly, they lost, Rachel admitted, feeling the defeat wearing her out.

Lingeringly, Rachel's eyes turned and rested on the desk calendar sitting on the counter.  One more month, she noted.  One more month and she would find out just how much her life has changed.  She shivered.  She was almost too afraid to find out.

=====

The dry leaves crunched as Ross rolled his wheelchair forward to a quiet corner by the pond that same Sunday afternoon, leading his visitors to the log benches under a maple tree where they could catch up on each other's lives.

"Woh!  Slow down, speedy," Joey joked, jogging a couple of steps to catch up to Ross.  "You're driving too fast!"

Ross rolled his eyes and stopped on his tracks to throw his friend a mock death glare.

Joey grinned teasingly.  "If you could stand up, you'd chase me to the pond, right?"

"Oh, Joey, stop teasing Ross!"  Phoebe came up from behind and flicked Joey in the ear.  "You are so mean."

"What?"  Joey furrowed his brow.  "He doesn't mind, right?" he defended whiningly.

Ross laughed quietly, shaking his head as he continued to move forward.  If there was one thing that didn't change, his friends were still very much like the friends as he had always known them.

"So, what's new?" Chandler asked the moment they stopped by the benches.  "It's good to see you wheeling your chair around," he commented good-naturedly, smiling.  "So, you're doing okay, man?"

"I-I-I'm o-o-okay, " Ross stammered.  He and his speech pathologist have been arduously working on relearning his speech patterns.  So far, it has been a slow process, but it was getting there—or so he was told.  It never sounded like it to him, though.

"That's good," everyone replied in an almost perfect chorus, causing laughter to erupt amongst themselves.

"Wow.  We've been hanging out with each other way too much," Phoebe laughed.  "We all practically think alike.  I bet we could talk without even actually talking now."

"Oh yeah?" Joey arched a cynical brow.   "Okay, tell me what I just told you."

Phoebe raised an eyebrow, uncertain.  "Tell me what I just told you?"

Chandler rolled his eyes.  "Anyway…" he said, opening the floor to any other conversation except the ridiculous ones.  "Next topic please."

"Ho-how's t-th-the, a-a-do-dop-tion?" Ross asked his sister and Chandler a moment later, knowing that that was the latest issue with the couple.

"It's coming along…" Monica replied, sighing.  "Just slowly…"  
"I know…" Chandler agreed.  "I never realized that this adoption thing could take a very long time…Can we just adopt one of your kids?" he joked.

Ross smiled weakly and glanced at his wristwatch at Chandler's mention of his kids.  Rachel and the kids should have been there an hour ago, but obviously they were running late…again.  He sighed, focusing his attention back to his friends, trying not to let this lateness get to him.

"Oh, Rachel's coming soon," Monica assured Ross quickly, noticing her brother's agitation.  "I talked to her on our way over and she said that she just has to pick up a couple of things…from her office…" she trailed slowly, not liking the way her explanation ended, and especially not the way Ross's countenance fell upon hearing what she just told him

Sensing the awkwardness in the air, Phoebe picked up the conversation.  "I'm engaged!" she announced cheerfully.  The others knew about it already, but Ross didn't, so she thought she would pick up the flow of the conversation before it turned into something even more awkward.  "Yeah, Mike finally proposed to me!  Yay!" she added in the same cheerful manner, talking about her steady boyfriend of one year.

Ross smiled at Phoebe, widening his eyes as he shared in his friend's excitement.  "Tha-that's w-w-won—"

"Wonderful," Phoebe finished for Ross.  "I know, right?"  She thought it was a little rude cutting Ross off like that, but that was who she was—the Phoebe that Ross was already familiar with.  If she were to succeed in bringing a sense of familiarity to the group again for her friend's sake, then she should let herself be loose and quirky again.  She had changed too.  That was a fact.  They all have.   But she thought Ross looked like he could really use the 'familiar' before change was gradually reintroduced to him.

Smiling, Monica caught on Phoebe's attempt to change the topic, half-grateful, half-relieved that it loosened the tension a little bit.  She laughed, the same Monica laugh whenever she found something amusing.  "Oh yeah," she began.  "Remember how Chandler's proposal got jinxed when my ex-boyfriend, Richard, came into the same restaurant?"

"Oh yeah…" Chandler mused wryly.  "I think we've all heard of that…"

"Yeah, Mike's proposal was sort of like that, but worse!" Monica laughed.  "He was gonna propose to Phoebe at a ball game, right?  So anyway, he wanted to have this big message, 'Phoebe, will you marry me?' be flashed across the big screen.  And then, right about when he was about to do it, he found out that Phoebe hates that cheesy kind of proposal…"

Phoebe rolled her eyes.  "Fine!  Make fun of me…"

Joey laughed, deep and full.  "Oh…poor guy.  For the other people to think that it's Phoebe who wears pants in the relationship…" He shook his head.  "Talk about embarrassing!"

"Anyway," Monica continued.  "He went at great lengths just so he could stop the stadium people from flashing this whole, 'Will you marry me?' message on the big screen, but anyway…"

"But anyway in the end I ended up proposing to him that way and the people laughed, saying it is I who wears the pants in the relationship," Phoebe finished for everybody.

"And of course, Mike sunk down in his seat, redder than tomato red from embarrassment," Chandler added, smiling. 

Ross smiled, still half-focused on the conversation.  He was a little lost in what they were talking about anyway.  With everyone talking all at once, it was just hard for him to follow…especially since he couldn't help but wonder when Rachel would be coming.  Occasionally, he let his eyes wander to his friends, pretending to focus, but for the most of the afternoon, his eyes were onto the building doors where people have been coming in and out.  "Where are you, Rachel?" he mumbled under his breath.

Ross waited and waited, but Rachel didn't show up.

The sun was slowly starting to set in the horizon, scattering shades of pink, purple, and blue as the sky increasingly became dark and chilly.  All four friends glanced at Ross, feeling sorry for him, and wondered just where the hell Rachel had gone off to.  It wasn't like her to just not show up when she said she would and especially when it has everything to do with Ross.

"You know what?  I think I'll give Rachel a call," Monica announced, pulling her cellphone from her purse, pulling her coat tighter around her when a chilly gust of wind ran through her back.

"D-d-don't b-bo-bother," Ross stammered, his face sour.  It was pointless, he thought.  He only has fifteen minutes left before he'd meet with his physical therapist.  He sighed and then spun his wheelchair to head back to the building, leaving his friends behind.

"Ross," Monica called after her brother.  "Rachel said she's going to be here..."  Since Ross kept going, she decided to give it up and simply motioned the others to follow.

"Where is she anyway?" Phoebe asked as she walked alongside Monica, going back to the building.

Holding her cellphone against her ear, Monica shrugged her shoulders.  "I don't know…she's not picking her cellphone either…"

"Uh-oh…" Phoebe trailed, biting her bottom lip.  "I smell trouble…"

"She's coming," Joey said as a matter-of-factly, catching up to Monica and Phoebe.  "I mean, she cannot [i]_not_[/i] come.  She takes the children to see him every week, and c'mon, like she'd ever want to miss a day and not see Ross.  She visits him like what?  Every night after work?"

Chandler wrinkled his nose.  "Actually…she used to, but now…not so much…At least that's what she told us when she had lunch with Monica and me last week."

"Ooh, that's not good…" Joey grimaced, but his frown soon turned into a smile when he noticed that he was fast approaching the automatic sliding doors.  "I love these doors," he commented like a child seeing such invention for the first time.

Chandler's mouth dropped in mock-contempt.  "Yeah, because this building is the only building in America that has automatic sliding doors," the sarcasm rolled off his tongue effortlessly.

Joey glared at Chandler, but just as he was about to coin a retort, the sound of James and Emma's shrill excitement greeted them when they finally stepped inside the building.

"Daddy!" James and Emma ran to their father almost immediately.

All four friends stood back and exchanged glances with each other, all smiling, all glad that Rachel and the kids finally made it despite their lateness.

"See, I told you they're coming," Joey exclaimed excitedly, seemingly forgetting that he was still to make a comeback at Chandler's sarcasm.

Monica, Phoebe, and Chandler smiled, shaking their heads as they patted Joey's shoulder.  "Oh, you're so cute…" Phoebe said of Joey's child-likeness before she and the other three focused on Ross and his children.  Gone was Ross's sour expression.  His grin ran from ear to ear, and his eyes twinkled at the sight of his children.

"I missed you, Daddy," James told his father, standing by Ross's knee, looking as if he wanted to climb up his Daddy's lap just like what his little sister was already doing.

"Me too!" Emma excitedly gushed, throwing her arms around her father, planting kisses on Ross's grinning face.

"M-m-missed y-you t-too," Ross told his children, returning the love they were showering him.

"Aww…look at them.  They're all over you…" Monica gushed, smiling down at her brother, her niece, and her nephew.  "So James, where's Mommy?"

James rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue, making his current feelings toward his mother clear.  "Ugh!  She's right there."  He pointed to Rachel walking towards them, Hugh following close behind.

"Oh…" Monica mindlessly mumbled as she looked in the direction James was pointing to.  In almost the same instant, she caught her brother drawing a deep breath, his face hardening as Rachel was approaching, even more so when he saw Hugh with Rachel.  Monica laughed, a little nervous this time.  "Well, what happened to you?" she inquired of her best friend.

"Oh you're not going to believe this, but my car stalled on our way over and my cellphone died," Rachel explained.  "Hi honey," she greeted Ross immediately, leaning down to give him a quick peck on the lips.  He, however, moved his face to the side so that Rachel's lips landed on his cheek instead, clearly making it known to her that he was upset with her.  

Rachel sighed, embarrassment and worry topping the list of the many things she was feeling right that instant.  Monica caught this, Rachel was sure of it.  Clearing her throat, she straightened up and forced a smile on her face, trying her best to pretend as if the rather cold exchange between her and Ross didn't happen.  It hurt her that Ross didn't even give her a chance to explain, but she simply didn't have the energy to deal with Ross's issue right now.  It was bothering her, but she was too tired to even think about it.

"Hi Ross…" Hugh greeted when he stepped up from behind Rachel.

Ross didn't even bother to acknowledge him.  Almost as soon as Hugh appeared, he wheeled his chair to the side, taking the kids with him.

"Oh yeah, you guys remember Hugh, right?" Rachel quickly spoke up, saving herself from embarrassment from the way Ross had acted towards Hugh, wondering that has gotten into his head again this time.  She and Ross had been over this whole please-try-not-to-be-rude-to-Hugh thing many times.  She assured him that he needn't be jealous because he has nothing to be jealous about, that Hugh was just a friend from work.  Apparently, after so much explaining, Ross still hasn't gotten that.  She sighed, trying to hide her growing exasperation by focusing on her friends instead of Ross's pettiness.  "Must be his time of the month!" she mocked dryly in her head, hiding her annoyance behind a forced smile.

Everybody nodded in response to Rachel's question, except for Phoebe who took a step closer to Rachel's colleague.  "I don't believe we've met," she said, batting her flirty eyes at the handsome stranger as she extended her hand to him.  "The name's Phoebe…Phoebe Buffay…"

"Pheebs, you are engaged.  You are aware of that, right?" Chandler reminded, pulling her arm back.

"It's all right, Chandler," Hugh spoke up upon hearing Chandler's comments.  "I just got engaged a couple of weeks ago…so really, I think it's fate that Miss Buffay and I met tonight.  It's all good…She's engaged; I'm engaged.  The next thing you know, we're the ones getting hitched," he joked.  "I'm Hugh by the way.  Hugh Johnson," he introduced winking at Phoebe before bringing her hand to his lips.

"Oh…so he is the fun kind of person," Phoebe giggled.  She nudged Chandler in the arm as she returned to her position.  "Seriously, you should be more like him…"

Chandler rolled his eyes and gave Hugh an uncomfortable wry grin.  There was something about the man that was a little intimidating.  He seemed to have a way with their women that the men in their group don't—not even Joey who had always been the group's ladies man.  Hugh had the killer looks, the height, the body, the flirty eyes, the million-dollar smile.  Yet, despite having perhaps all the assets, he was a very likeable guy and Chandler hated that.  Hugh was the kind of guy who seemed to have come out of a fairytale, trained and schooled about chivalry in King Arthur's court, with—as Chandler had imagined since he met the man—Sir Lancelot guiding his apprenticeship.  Hugh knew women and he knew how to charm them, which Chandler thought was a very delicate but evil weapon.  So if Ross was feeling a little insecure about this new 'big' guy, he could totally understand.  He was, more or less, feeling the same way.

Chandler cleared his throat, immediately wrapping a possessive arm around his wife.  "So, Hugh, tell me…Have you always been this…tall?"

Hugh laughed, deep and hearty, slapping Chandler in the back.  "You're too funny!"  He smiled at Monica.  "I'm telling you, Monica, you have a very funny husband…"

Monica smiled, reluctantly shrugging her shoulders.  "I guess I do…"  She sighed and then glanced at her brother, who she was sure was pretending not to be listening to the conversation.  She was sure he was—just as she was sure that Ross was upset with Rachel.  "So, how did you ended up bringing Rachel here?" she asked, speaking a little louder, hoping that this could clear whatever misunderstanding there was between Ross and Rachel even before the night was over.

"Well, I was actually on my way home from work," Hugh began to explain.

"So you're working Sundays too?" Chandler interrupted.

"Yeah, since his girlfriend moved to Australia a couple of weeks ago," Rachel answered for Hugh.  "Hugh has really been having a hard time adjusting without Marisa around…so he buries himself with work."

"Aww…not even partying…" Monica and Phoebe cooed in unison, both tilting their heads to the side as if sympathy pulled them there.

Chandler rolled his eyes.  "Anyway…keep going…" he said, suddenly wishing that he were Joey, just standing quietly without a care in the world, checking them hot nurses passing him by.

Hugh smiled before continuing.  "So anyway…I guess Rachel went to get some papers from her office a few minutes before I left the building and basically to make the long story short.  Her car stalled and I just happened to be there, passing her on the highway."

Chandler was a little skeptical.  "So…what, you just happen to have a radar for damsels in the distress?"

"Chandler!" Rachel and Monica scolded almost simultaneously, somewhat embarrassed.  The guys were obviously not appreciating Hugh, they thought, though all he was trying to do was to be a nice guy.

Hugh chuckled nervously, uncertain where Chandler was going.  He got the impression that Chandler was sticking up for Ross for reasons far to vague for him to understand.  After all, it wasn't like he was sleeping with Rachel.  He was just being a friend to her because she seemed like she could always use one.  "I'm not following Rachel if that's what you mean…"

This time, it was Chandler who gave out a nervous chuckle.  "Oh, that's not what I mean at all…"  He didn't mean his spiel to come across that way.  He nudged Joey in the elbow.  "Hey, Joe…can you help me out here…"

"No!  You can't take my Daddy away!" James' scream interrupted the awkward conversation.  Everyone turned their heads and found the boy blocking the aide coming to bring Ross to his next appointment.  "I'm not yet done with him!" James yelled stubbornly, hands on his hips.

"No!" Emma joined her brother, slapping the aide's knee in protest.

Ross smiled weakly, tenderly, and rolled his chair forward.  He didn't want to go yet, but he had to.  "J-j-james, E-Ems, i-it's o-okay."

"But I don't want you to go…" James pouted, tears rimming his eyes.  "Mommy, I told you we shoulda pushed the car over here, but you didn't listen!" he yelled over to Rachel, who was already emotionally drained to say anything else or defend herself for that matter.  He ran to his father, wrapping his tiny arms around him as far as his hand allowed him.  "Daddy, don't go please…"

Emma sighed, watching her big brother cry.  "James don't cwy…"  She touched his arm and leaned her head close to him.

Monica wiped a tear out of the corner of her eye, smiling weakly at the waiting aide.  "Can you, can you give them another minute?"

As if on cue, Rachel approached her children and got down on her knees, pulling both James and Emma into a hug.  "Jamesy, Daddy has to go see his physical therapist now…"  She drew a deep breath, trying hard not to tear up.  She and the kids could probably go with Ross without a problem with the PT, but Ross didn't want them there—or at least he didn't want her there.  Dr. Silverman noticed that Ross wouldn't even try to do any of his exercises whenever Rachel would be there to watch him.  She told Rachel about this, and Rachel could only assume that Ross just didn't want her there with him, so Rachel didn't even bother to insist.  If that was what Ross wanted, then she'd respect that.  But this time, sadly and almost pleading, she looked up at him and met his pensive gaze, hoping that he'd stop being so stubborn and change his mind just this once for their children's sake.  She knew it was her fault that they came late, but Ross shouldn't really take out the punishment that was supposedly hers on the kids.

Ross looked away abruptly, breaking his eye contact with Rachel.  For a moment, he wanted to give in and let them come with him, but the moment his eyes met Rachel's he couldn't help but feel a little resentment, feel a little scared of what he might see in her eyes again if he let her come.  The last time Rachel came with him, he saw that pity look on her face and he hated it.  He hated that pity is all he seemed to see in his wife's face these days.  He already felt stupid enough not being able to do many simple things by himself, but seeing that pity look on Rachel's face just amplified that feeling a hundredfold.  If Rachel was not trying to make him feel that way, then she was miserably failing because that was how he'd feel whenever she would look at him.

Drawing a deep breath, Ross shook off his emotions and gestured to the aide to just take him.  He would have had more time with the children if Rachel had come earlier, he thought bitterly, trying to justify his action.  "G-g-gotta g-go," he muttered, smiling weakly at his children before the aide wheeled him away.

"Daddy, don't go!" James cried louder after his father, trying to break free from his mother's grasp as she tried to keep him from running after his father.  When Ross finally vanished into the elevators, the boy's shoulders slumped down in defeat, sobbing dejectedly.  "It's your fault!" he began yelling at his mother, releasing his frustrations on her.  "If we come here earlier, Daddy won't have to go soon!  It's your fault Mommy!  It's your fault!"

Monica felt so sorry for Rachel, and she could tell from the looks of the people watching, they were too.  First to step up, she touched her friend's shoulder and gave her a sympathetic nod, gesturing Rachel to leave the boy to her.  "Hey Chunky-Monkey, why don't we go outside for a little bit…and then maybe you could wish on Starly?" she suggested, her voice soft.  "Did you bring Starly with you?"  She knew she didn't even have to ask, but she wanted the boy to ease up a little.

James rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and slowly nodded at his aunt.

"Great!" Monica tried to sound enthused.  "Then, we could go outside and make a wish.  Do you want to come too, Emma?"

The girl glanced up at her aunt, as if carefully trying to size up the offer.  Then, she looked at her mother, as if asking permission to let her go; but then, she shook her head and wrapped her arms around Rachel, making it clear to everyone what her decision was.  "No…I want Mommy…"

Monica smiled at the girl and lightly patted her niece's cheek.  "That's fine…You take care of Mommy…" she told Emma before meeting Rachel's grateful gaze.  She gave Rachel a nod and a smile as she took James' hand.  Without even attempting to break the silence that had suddenly enveloped the stunned group, she headed for the doors, taking the boy with her.

Chandler followed his wife outside, running after her as soon as Monica disappeared through the sliding doors.  As for the others, they stood there, awkward at first as they tried to size up the situation.  Then, Phoebe made a move for Rachel and pulled her into a comforting hug.

Appreciating the gesture, Rachel went into Phoebe's embrace.  However, a part of her still wanted to put up a brave front, so she pulled away almost immediately and smiled at Phoebe and everyone else, hoping that her face looked convincing enough to let them know that she's okay.  "I'm…I'm okay…really I am," she tried to reassure everybody.  "It's not like this is the first time James pulled that tantrum on me.  I mean, what can I do?  He's just a kid," she attempted a joke, chuckling nervously, her eyes darting around the room until they settled on the doors where Monica had gone off with James.  Her demeanor changed, and her eyes could no longer hide the hurt that she was trying to cover up.  She knew everybody noticed this, but she smiled.  She put up her bravest smile and nodded.  She didn't want to talk about what happened anymore.

=====

"Why do you do it?" Hugh asked softly when he pulled up his vehicle in front of Rachel's house, dropping her and her kids off.

"Do what?" Rachel chuckled nervously, pretending not to know what Hugh was talking about.  She knew exactly what Hugh was talking about.  Hugh wanted to know why she always keep on pretending as if nothing was wrong when reality kept on pointing to the fact that everything was.

"Rachel," Hugh stopped her firmly.  "You know exactly what I'm talking about."

Rachel glanced at the sleeping children in the back seat and then sighed, too defeated to even put up a pointless argument.  After months of working closely with Hugh, they just developed this friendship comparable to her other friends.  Since then, she was never able to hide anything from him.  He could see through her as if she were this transparent glass.  "I don't know…" she replied tentatively.  "I guess it's easier this way…"

Hugh paused, staring intently at the steering wheel as if carefully pondering what he was going to say.  "Rachel, I know this is your life and it's probably not my place to tell you what to do, but don't…do…that…" he finished slowly, looking at Rachel shyly in the eyes.  "You're being too hard on yourself and in the end, you might only end up hurting…you as well as everyone else involved…"  He smiled and looked down on the dimly lit dashboard.  "But you know, who am I to tell you this?  I'm just some guy who probably has only a quarter of a clue about what your life is really like…"

Rachel smiled, grateful and partly touched by Hugh's concern, and gave Hugh's hand a squeeze.  "No, you're not just some guy," she told him.  "You've been a wonderful friend and that's important to me…"

Hugh blushed a little.  "Well…thanks…I guess…"

"No, thank you," Rachel replied.  "Thanks for the ride…and I'm really sorry about how Ross acted towards you earlier.  He's usually not like that…"

"It's all right."  Hugh smiled, nodding his head.  "I can totally understand…" 

"Thanks…" Rachel smiled apologetically.  "I don't know what has gotten to him lately…He's just so unreasonable, you know?  And, and cranky."  She shook her head, stopping her list of frustrations.  "But despite that, I still love him…Is that so crazy?"

"Not at all…"  A grin of amusement crossed Hugh's face.  "You know what they say…it doesn't matter how worse they get.  If we love them, we love them," he commented laughingly.  "I swear, you have no idea what I have to do to put up with my fiancée…and she doesn't even have a valid reason like Ross to be cranky," he joked.  "But, I love that girl so much…"

Rachel smiled, watching Hugh's expression changed against the white glow of the lamppost.  Hugh was so crazy about Marisa, and he was not hiding it.  She could see it in the twinkle in his eyes, his reflective smile whenever he would talk about his girlfriend.  This, she thought, perhaps was the reason why she accepted Hugh's friendship without so many hesitations.  Hugh just never struck her as a threat to her relationship with Ross.  She just really wished Ross could see that as well.

=====

"Ross, you're not even trying," Carrie Silverman, Ross's physical therapist, stated firmly as she patiently tried to deal with Ross's reluctance to do the leg exercises she was asking him to do.  She sighed, a little resigned, and took the chair in front of him.  "Okay.  What's wrong this time?"  She folded her arms across her chest and looked at Ross.

Ross shook his head stubbornly, not once even bothering to look at his PT.

"Okay, fine…" Carrie mumbled, standing up once more.  "Forget what I said, but don't complain if I keep you here longer.  You and I know that you need to be able to stand up on your own before you can get out of this institution, and if you don't get that, fine.  Be stubborn and don't listen to me."  

Ross was very stubborn, Carrie thought, and sometimes it was just hard to get through him.  She could feel for his wife; she really could.  Yet, somehow, she got this feeling that Ross wasn't really like this before.  Maybe he was already stubborn, she reasoned in her head, but not to the point where he was not even giving heed to reason.

"I-I f-f-feel s-s-stup-pid," Ross finally said.  Stupidity was one of the many things he was feeling, along with the regret for treating Rachel as badly as he did earlier.  Nevertheless, he thought stupidity was the word to sum it all up, so that's what he told Silverman.

Carrie sat on the examination table next to Ross.  "Why?" She touched his shoulder.  It probably wasn't her job to give ear and counsel, but Ross was different from all the other patients she has dealt with.  Ross seemed to be the type who would be unable to do anything until he got his concerns off his chest—thus, if he's got problems then he's got no interest in doing anything else.  She could imagine him as a perfectionist, or at least someone who had always tried so hard to make life perfect for him before the accident.  But more than anything, Ross just seemed to be a person in denial, someone who was in dire need of a friend—which she found to be a little shocking.  She had always thought Ross had a pretty strong support group.  On the other hand, he probably was not sharing with them because patients like him tend to keep to themselves—anything to avoid feeling helpless.

"I-I d-d-don't kn-know…" Ross muttered impatiently, frustrated by his slow speech.  He could probably name a million and one reason, but hearing himself speak was driving him crazy, so he didn't even bother trying.  He looked at Carrie, watched her expression twisted with empathy.  He wasn't sure if she was just trained to pull that face, but he always saw empathy in her eyes, never pity.

Ross sighed and tore his gaze from Carrie, suddenly wishing that Rachel were like her.  He hated to compare Rachel to just anybody.  As far as he was concerned, no one would and could ever compare to her.  This time, however, he couldn't help but.  Bitterness engulfed his entire being, making him unable to see and think through things clearly.  He was sure he still loves Rachel, but he just couldn't seem to meet her where she's at right now—wherever that may be.  Rachel just seemed so changed to him…

Nevertheless, comparing Rachel to Carrie was the last thing he wanted to do.  Rachel and Carrie were total opposites that it was just hard to find a comparison basis.  Appearance-wise, Carrie was tall, not that much shorter than him, dark hair, dark eyes, and pale, almost as if she was always cooped up indoors all day and not once getting exposure from the sun; but Rachel, his Rachel, was just golden. He loved how her hair shimmers under the sunlight, loved how her golden skin always carried this warm glow, loved how her blue eyes twinkled whenever she would smile, and more importantly, he loved how her height reached up just barely past his chin so he could easily lean down and inhale the fresh scent of her hair, which he loved.  Personality-wise, Carrie was serious and sensible, almost like him in many aspects; but Rachel, his Rachel, was just so full of honest to goodness sweetness and unpredictability, so he never knew a boring day with her—that is, before the accident.  So, no.  There was no way he could compare Rachel to another.  They just wouldn't measure up to her.

A sad smile crossed Ross's face as he thought of his Rachel and what their life was like.  He missed her.  He missed their old life.  He would give anything just to have that back even for the briefest moment, would do anything just to change that one ill-fated night that changed the course of their lives possibly forever.  He should have never insisted on getting that tree that night, should have drove straight home to be with Rachel and their children no matter how good his intentions were.  There were so many things that he wished he had done instead, but each one was only bringing him down, beat and defeated.  Past is past, and there's nothing he could do to change it.  He wished he could, though, because he really wanted to have his old life back.

For some inexplainable urge, Ross turned his head toward the window and glanced out at the starry night sky.  Rachel had always searched the sky for stars when she would wash her mug in the kitchen, he recalled, digging deep into the banks of his memory.  He smiled, thoughtful but despondent, and wondered just where or what Rachel was doing right that same minute…

=====

The moon cast a bluish glow into the dark room, setting the tone of what perhaps best captured Rachel's emotions that night.  She lay in bed, her cheeks pressed up against the soft white pillows that heard every whimper that escaped her throat, caught every tear that fell from her eyes.  A sense of desperate loneliness, longing, engulfed her being, drowning her in sorrow.  One way or another, she had always hoped that this misery would end, but it never did, and if it was about to, it showed no signs of ebbing.

Sadly, she reached up and pulled a pillow close to her—the one that Ross had always used.  She hugged it tightly and buried her face deeply in it.  She thought if she buried her face deep enough, she could still catch a sniff of Ross's scent—her old Ross.  This was perhaps the closest she'd get to 'him' again without getting shut down, hurt, and coming face to face with disappointment.  She missed him so much especially now that he always seemed to think of her as a foe who was constantly on his back rather than his wife who was trying hard to be a friend to him.  It had been really difficult for her to deal with the changes in him.  It seemed as though the closer Ross gets to the end of his recovery, the farther hope evades her wish to have their old life back…to have her old Ross back.

Distance hadn't been good on their relationship.  She could already feel it breaking them apart.

Dolefully, she turned to the stars just outside her window.  They were everywhere.  After months of searching for them, they appeared once more.  Rachel almost wanted to yell at them, tell them not to show themselves again, but she didn't.  This time she was most certain anyway that she no longer believed in wishes, and this was the thought she carried with her as she cried herself to sleep that night…

=====

Ross stared out the window of what had been home to him for the last nine months.  He watched until the last leaf of the maple tree outside his window fell to the ground and joined the heaping pile of reddish brown leaves on the ground.  A thoughtful, almost worried, smile crossed his face as he stared out into the open, trying to search the world for something familiar.  He thought he could really use that today.  His eyes immediately scanned the almost empty garden for George, the old man with a walker who was always out and about so early in the morning, or for Lea, the girl who always flew balloons every Sunday morning.  He didn't find them there.  Ross knew it was because of the unusually cold mornings that they've been having recently, but somehow—especially that day—it seemed as though the fate had rightfully chosen that particular day to give him the preview of the life that would no longer be 'familiar' to him from that day on.

He sighed, glancing at his packed bags and then at the door.  He had no idea what life would be like beyond that door.  His worst fear: the once perfect life he knew would no longer be the same.  What if the changes were all shocking and appalling?  What if he couldn't adjust?  What if his life turns for the worse instead of for the better?  What if…

Ross drew in a deep breath, shaking off the rest of the 'what ifs' plaguing his mind.  He waited and anticipated patiently for this day to come, but ironically, when it came, he was almost too scared and so far from ready to leave and go home.  He didn't know what to expect anymore, and that thought left him overwhelmed.

A soft knock interrupted Ross's careful contemplation.  Instead of the breakfast lady, Loreta, poking her head inside the room, it was Chandler who did.  With one smile, Chandler asked a question that made Ross take in a short, nervous breath.  "Ross, you ready?"

To be continued… 


	7. Wishes 6

**Wishes**

six

=====

"James, for the tenth time: NO."

"But Mommy, I want Uncle Hugh to teach me how to play football."

"No."

"Why?"

"Because Daddy's home and I'm sure he'd like to teach you himself."

"But he can't run…He's still sitting in his chair with wheels.  How can he play football?"

"James, I told you not to say that.  You know that's going to hurt Daddy's feelings."

"But you hurt my feelings too.  You won't let me play and I want to play.  And I want Uncle Hugh to teach me how to play football."

Ross wasn't even sure if he should continue his way to the kitchen upon hearing the conversation between Rachel and James.  It was quite a depressing conversation to hear first thing in the morning, but it was the truth.  Painful as it was for him to hear those words from his son's mouth, he knew James was only telling the truth.  He couldn't run—that was a fact—so how could he expect the boy to want him to be the one to teach him how to play football?

A disheartened sigh escaped Ross's lips, feeling his strength being drained out of him.  Ever so slowly, he started pulling out his wheelchair away from the kitchen; but before he could do so, Emma saw him, so he stopped as all eyes turned on him.

"Mommy, Daddy's here?" Emma asked Rachel, her eyes wide with confusion.  It was almost as if the last person she expected to see at home so early in the morning was her father.  As far as her young mind was concerned, her Daddy lives in a different house and she and James visit him only every once in a while.

Rachel came to a slow stop as she packed James's sandwich into his lunchbox, her eyes never leaving Ross, her heart beating rapidly.  She didn't know how long Ross had been there or how much he heard, but she felt scared and worried at the same time.  She was scared that he heard it all; worried that he might take it the wrong way.  But from the look of the deep hurt in his face, it seemed to her that worrying was not going to do anything.  The damage was done and there was nothing to take it back.

Rachel wanted to console Ross, but before she could make another move, her cellphone rung.  The caller id indicated that the call was from work, so she picked it up, leaving Ross alone to watch his family in sullen quietness.

A sad smile crawling across his lips, Ross slowly retracted his way out of the kitchen.  He thought if he disappeared quickly enough, he might even remain unnoticed.

=====

Rachel chewed on the tip of her pen and tap her foot anxiously under the table as she stared at the darkening skies outside the large floor to ceiling windows of the conference room where she and her team have been preparing for the presentation they were presenting to the big bosses at 6 pm.  She glanced at the time and craned her neck up as if she was hoping to see the rooftop of her own home somewhere behind the snow-covered cityscape before her.

Ross…She wondered how he was doing at home.  She didn't like the way his face fell downcast earlier when he walked in on her little conversation with James.  Ross was hurt; she knew that.  That was why she felt so bad that she didn't stay with him all day instead.  If it weren't for this important presentation, she could have sworn, she would just call in sick that day so she didn't have to go to work.

"Earth to, Geller!" Hugh waved his hand in front of Rachel, causing her to nearly fall over her chair, flustered.

"What?" Rachel asked, trying to focus her attention back to work.

Hugh scratched his head and then stood up from his chair, but only so he could sit down on the table in front of Rachel.  "Okay.  You're not focusing," he told her as a matter-of-factly.  "Rachel, we have work to do and I don't know where your mind is right now…but I'm telling you this, it should be here," he finished firmly, pointing on the blue folder that has the outline of their presentation.  

Rachel bit her bottom lip, feeling so guilty.  Hugh seemed really stressed about this presentation they have to make, but here she was, just sitting there with her mind completely in a far off place.  "I'm sorry…" she apologized.

"Look, Rach, I don't mean to be harsh, but we've got work to do," Hugh smiled weakly, looking more stressed than the usual.  He sighed and the folded his arms across his chest.  "Okay, tell me what's bothering you?" he asked as a second thought, thinking that Rachel probably would be better off if she could get rid of what it was that has been keeping her thoughts preoccupied.

"Are you being the friend now or the boss who's going to fire me if he finds out that I'm not focusing on my work?" Rachel tried to joke, looking up at Hugh like a guilty child waiting for her punishment.

Hugh rolled his eyes.  "Well, what do you think?  Do you think I'd fire you when I recommended you to take my position when I leave?"

Rachel smiled a small smile of relief.  "Okay sorry…it's just that Ross finally came home yesterday and I'm really worried how he's adjusting and all…"

Hugh smiled and nodded sympathetically.  Ross.  He heard great stories about this man in less than a year more than he heard stories about his father in his lifetime.  Rachel has told him so much about Ross that all she needed to say was the name, Ross, and he'd understand why she had been too preoccupied to even focus on work.  If his own girlfriend were like Rachel and the way she cares about Ross, not once, he thought, would he have a problem with Marisa working overseas.  He thought he'd never seen a woman so faithful, so passionate, and so in love with her husband the way Rachel was to Ross.  They've been through hell together, and yet here she was, still standing by him, Hugh thought admiringly, suddenly glad to have such a remarkable friend like Rachel.  Unfortunately, work is work.  So whether Rachel liked it or not, she had to stay for the presentation.  "Well…" he replied tentatively, carefully gauging his words so as not to offend Rachel.  "I can understand that you want to be with him…but…"

"I know…" Rachel sighed, looking out the window.  "Work is work."

"Rachel, I swear.  If they didn't ask for you, I would have let you go home early…You do have an idea that the future of your career in this company lies in how well this presentation is going to go, don't you?  I mean, you're taking over my position in less than a month, so you have to show them that you can do this," Hugh smiled meekly.  He felt sorry for Rachel.  He really, really did.  "I wish there was something I can do but…"

"I know…" Rachel replied again, flashing Hugh a small, grateful smile.  Hugh gave her a final worried look, but she reassured him that she would be fine.  She would be.  She just hoped that her decision to stay at work tonight wouldn't be the demise of her once-perfect-but-now-stormy marriage with Ross.

=====

Glancing at the time, Ross released a long, despondent sigh.  When Rachel called in to say that she would come home late, she sure wasn't kidding.  Sighing heavily, he rolled his wheelchair out of the bedroom and went to check on his children.  Holly, the children's babysitter, had already left for the day, so now he was on his own to put his kids to sleep.  This used to be very easy for him, but now he wasn't so sure.  His life's changed.  Minute by minute, his worst fears were slapping him on the face one by one, little by little—all unexpected, all dreaded.  He has been sluggish all day, almost afraid to move for fear that a bigger monster of change would just jump before his face and ruin his life forever.

It has been a long day—uneventful but painfully long.  He almost wanted to return to the rehab.  At least that place got nothing to remind him just how great his life was before his unfortunate accident, nothing to make him feel regretful for or sad about, nothing to make him hate himself as he mulled all day over the thought of things he should be doing.  He should be the one taking care of his family.  He should be the one working so Rachel would never have to leave the kids for work if she didn't want to…  

But Rachel was forced to because she was now the sole provider for their family—and not even by choice—while he was nothing but a useless, dependent invalid to her.  Such was the misfit of their new roles and it has been one of the many things bothering him all day.  Heck, he couldn't even go back to work!  The only livelihood he's ever known both depended on speech.  The doctors told him that he should be able to walk again, to redevelop his speech again, but he was starting to doubt it.  He had been working his ass off all these months, but the farthest it took him was his wheelchair and his speech-impeded tongue.

He tried.  He tried all day not to think about these things, but he couldn't.  Everywhere he looked, there was always something to remind him of his troubles, always something to make him think that someone else is much more capable of taking care of his family instead of him—the well-loved, well-adored Hugh to be more specific.  Everyone just talked about Hugh as if he were the greatest guy in world; but the worst part of it all, Ross thought, was that he sat there all day listening to everyone talked about it.  Maybe it was jealousy that was eating him off.  Maybe it was pride.  But by the end of the day, he just wanted it to end…

Ross released a sigh and rolled his wheelchair to James' bedroom.  Previous experience told him that the boy had always been harder to put down for the night than his sister, so he started with him.  To his surprise, however, James was already sound asleep.  Of course he would be asleep, Ross reminded himself bitterly.  The boy spent all day playing basketball the way Uncle Hugh taught him.

Shaking off his bitterness, Ross continued to roll forward towards his sleeping son.  He had no right to be upset, he thought.  The boy just did what he had to do because his own father was not able to live up to his own responsibilities and promises to him.

James was curled up on the foot of the bed with no covers around him.  He had one hand dangling down from the bed and in it was Starly, about ready to fall from his loosened grip.  Quietly, Ross pulled the star from the boy's hand, but James tugged on it and shifted positions, hugging Starly as he would a plush toy.  "I'm stubborn, I believe…" James mumbled in his sleep.

Ross stroked boy's cheek and leaned down to kiss his son goodnight.  This was probably the easiest time he's ever had putting the boy down to sleep.  He must admit, though, that he was missing the little wrestling matches they used to have just to get the boy to bed, and more especially their story time together when the boy would just snuggle close to him and give him his undivided attention as if he were the most important person in the world.  The good times—the times when James still believed that Daddy could do anything for him…

Ross sighed and looked at his son for one last time.  "Night, James…" he whispered.  "Sorry if Daddy hasn't been much of a good Daddy to you…"  He wanted so hard to try again, to make up for the times he missed, but the task at hand seemed so large and so intimidating that he was beginning to think that he couldn't anymore.  After all, these days, there isn't much that he can actually do.

Emma was still playing with her dolls and dainty toy teacups when Ross came into her room.  But as soon as she saw her father, she ran away from him and hurriedly climbed back into her bed.  "I do it," she said softly, shyly, slipping her legs under covers, sending across the message that she didn't want to be tucked in.

Ross, sort of, prepared himself for this.  He imagined that it was very possible to get this kind of response from Emma after being away from him for so long, but nothing prepared him for the hurt he felt when it actually did happen.  

Nighttimes used to be his favorite moments with his daughter because that's when he felt most bonded to her.  He'd sit in the wicker rocker—which was now located in the corner of her room where a giant plush bear now sits—hold Emma close to him and gently rock her to sleep.  From the time she was a baby to the time, well, before the accident, that was what they've always done together.  But now, even that precious experience was taken away from him.

Ross smiled weakly.  He really couldn't blame the girl for feeling this ill at ease with him.  He thought it was partly, if not entirely, his fault.  Emma probably cried herself to sleep for so many nights and yet he never came for her.  He couldn't blame her if she got tired of waiting.  The wait had been too long.  Much too long…

Trying his best to control this ache in his chest, Ross exhaled out of the corner of his mouth.  His eyes were misting, and his fingers were nervously rapping against his lap, but he smiled at his daughter and offered her a brief nod, letting her know that he respected her wishes.  Too choked up to say another word, he gestured to the lights and asked, "L-l-lights?"

Emma's eyes widened with fear and she shook her head vehemently.  "No.  No lights out please…" she begged, looking as if she was about to cry.

"Okay…" Ross assured the child, forcing yet another bittersweet smile at his dearest little princess.  Before tears escaped his eyes, he spun his wheelchair around and turned his back on the girl lest she saw him with tears in his eyes.  Emma never liked seeing other people crying, and upsetting the girl before bedtime was the last thing he wanted to happen...

"Night-night, Daddy…" Emma softly called after him.

Ross only nodded, too choked up to say anything more.  Without even turning his head, he rolled his chair out of Emma's room and quietly shut door.  Once outside, far from Emma's eyes or from anyone's hearing as far as he was concerned, Ross buried his face in his hands and finally succumbed to the emotions that he now became unable to battle against.  It was the last straw of his dying hope to resume a sense of familiarity in his life, and it crumbled.  His once perfect life was but a distant dream now, and he knew he only got himself to blame…

=====

Ross watched as the snow gently fall from the sky and seemingly fill the deck outside his bedroom.  Each flake seemed to carry a soft sound of a million tinkling bells as they descended upon the earth, each one contributing to a wonderful melody it seemed to be creating.  Magical was the word to describe the night, but even for a brief moment, Ross couldn't feel the peacefulness his tired soul has been longing for.  His pain and troubles pervaded his mind.  Hard as he tried not to fixate on them, they kept haunting him, following him like an unrelenting shadow.

He had been too preoccupied with his thoughts that he didn't even notice Rachel come in.  It wasn't until he spun his wheelchair around to head for the bed that he saw her standing by the door, a look on her face that was too hard for him to read in the dark.

Rachel made her way over, dropping her purse on a chair on her way.  She wanted nothing more than to be there for Ross, so she went straight to him, leaving all her reservations behind.  Even in the dark, she could see his anguish.  Even in the still silence of the night, she could hear his cries.

She cupped his face with both hands and he held them close to his face, planting a kiss on each one of her palms.  Tears filling her eyes, Rachel knelt down before him and pulled his face close to hers, kissing his pain away, kissing his eyes, the tip of his nose, his cheeks, and finally his lips.

He kissed her back, letting himself be lost in Rachel's kisses for a while.  But as soon as his own self-disgust and uncertainties washed over him again, he grabbed Rachel's wrists and pushed her away.  He was disgusted with himself—his failures, his misgivings—that just couldn't understand how someone could feel for him anything except out of pity.  He wasn't particularly fond of himself right now, so how could someone else be?  Blinded by his own pain, he was unable to understand this, so he pulled away.

Stunned by his own act, Ross inhaled deeply and looked away, avoiding Rachel's eyes.  "I-I'm s-sorry…" he stammered a little.  Without so much as another word, he maneuvered his wheelchair past Rachel and into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him, leaving Rachel in the dark hurting and unable to think about anything anymore.

=====

"What's the matter now?" Carrie asked softly, releasing Ross's leg and leaving it to dangle as Ross sat in the examination table for his weekly therapy.

Ross forced a smile, shaking his head.

"Do you really expect me to believe that?" Carrie replied, arching a finely shaped brow.  "Ross, you've been my patient for what, over nine months now?  So do you think I'd just believe you when I can see that you're not even trying to do the exercises I'm asking you to do?"  She shook her head, smiling, and then went on to do her usual routine with Ross: sit down next to him and talk him into doing his exercises.  "Okay…So, spill," she commanded in a joking manner to make him feel at ease.

Ross lifted his down-turned face slowly and smiled at his physical therapist timidly.  Carrie has been really wonderful to him.  She has been nothing but nice and patient.  He was only paying her to help him regain his muscular strength, but here she was, offering him so much more than just professional service.  Oddly enough, he felt at ease with her.  He knew her enough to know that she could offer him sensible advice, that he could trust her.  At the same time, he didn't know her enough so he didn't have to worry about her being judgmental of his problems, and her telling Rachel about this kind of personal struggles he prefers to keep to himself.  It was the one thing, he thought, he couldn't do with his friends.  One way or another, Monica, Chandler, Phoebe, and Joey would tell Rachel about his problems, since they were also friends with her, and often that just made problems worse than they were originally.

"So, you're just going to shut up and stare at me?" Carrie joked, shrugging her shoulders after Ross's long silence.

Ross forced a smile on his lips and lowered his gaze to the light-blue tiled floor.

Carrie jumped down to the ground and stood before Ross.  "Okay, mister.  If you don't want to share, that's fine.  Just make sure you do the exercises I'm going to ask you to do."  She sat on her chair and grabbed Ross's leg again, gently bending and straightening it out.  "How's home by the way?" she asked nonchalantly.  "Glad that I was nice enough to sign that discharge form though you never got to do what we've agreed upon?" she continued half-jokingly.  She looked up at him to give him a smile, but when she did, it was then that she finally figured out what was bothering Ross.  "Is that what's bothering you?" she asked slowly, sympathetically.

Ross didn't even have to hide it any more.  He forced a smile but his tears betrayed him.

Thoughtfully, Carrie stood up and hesitantly hugged Ross close to her.  Ross didn't really tell her what it was exactly that was bothering him, but she held him.  Right now, she thought, he just needed a shoulder to cry on.

=====

Rachel pressed her palm flat on the glass window and sighed dolefully, watching Dr. Silverman consoled Ross with whatever it was he told her.  She had been standing there without Ross's knowledge, simply watching him from outside.  She had seen it all.  She had seen how he hesitated at first, had seen how he finally gave in, and had seen how he broke down, looking so lost and completely shattered.

She was hurt.  There was no denying that fact.  She couldn't understand why he could talk to someone else, but not her.  She couldn't understand why he could cry on someone else's shoulder, but not hers.  She couldn't understand why he was willing to be held by another, but when it was her holding him, he'd flinch or push her away.

She sighed, closing her eyes, deciding it best not to know the answers anymore.  It would hurt less that way, she thought.

Braving her tears, Rachel drew in another long deep breath and hurried out the hallway into the waiting area.  She sat on a chair and set her laptop open before her, pretending to act unbothered, busying herself with the work she was supposed to be working on in the first place while waiting for Ross to finish with his therapy session.  The lump in her throat was thickening, and increasingly it was becoming harder to swallow, but she tried.  Over and over again, she tried and typed on her laptop as fast as she could, doing everything to get this hurt off her chest.  But she could only take in so much, before she knew it she could no longer see the laptop screen as her tears finally let out and clouded her vision.  She didn't know what to do anymore.

=====

Christmas lights twinkled and flickered everywhere.  Beautiful lighted lanterns hang on every lamppost around the Rockefeller Center, making it seem like bright angels were blissfully looking down the happy ice-skating people down below.  But, it wasn't the fanciful decorations that caught Rachel's eyes as she sat on one of the benches by the rink; it was the small family of four, gliding on ice not too far from her.

They were all holding hands.  The daddy and the mommy were on the opposite sides of the two children, leading them forward.  They all had this smile that seemed to tell the world that they couldn't care about anything else but each other's presence.  They seemed so happy, relaxed, and carefree—especially the two children.  The two kids were laughing so hard that Rachel could have sworn they already have tears in their eyes.  Not too long afterwards, the two children let go of their parents' hands and skated ahead of them.  The couple looked at each other, smiled into each other's eyes, and shared a brief kiss before joining their children again.

Rachel sighed, watching all these.  She couldn't help but feel a little lonely as she was reminded of what it was she was missing in her life.  Her family was within her reach, but ironically, they seemed harder to put together now that they were all together.  She smiled wistfully and threw her head back to watch the stars above.  

They were all up there.  They twinkled.  They flickered.  They danced as the frosty breeze blew by.  But they did nothing else.  That was the extent of all they could do.  Rachel wasn't even sure herself why she still kept on looking up at them.  They were all just sparkling dusts in the sky that couldn't make anyone's wishes come true.

"Penny for your thoughts."

Rachel crinkled her nose as she picked the cold penny that was put on her forehead.  She looked up and found Hugh smiling at her.

"What are you doing here?" Hugh asked, almost as if surprised to see her there.  "I thought you go straight home from work.  And you did leave work early today, didn't you?"

Rachel smiled sadly.  She would have come home, but being home just deepens her wound, so she decided to stay away even for a few hours.  "Well…how about you?  What are you doing here?"

Hugh sighed loudly and leaned forward, clasping his hands together.  "Well, I already went home, but then I got this phone call from Marisa and she kind of broke up with me…so I decided to take a walk…"

"To nurse a broken heart?" Rachel asked, a small smile on her lips.

"You could say that…" Hugh shrugged his shoulders, blushing a little.

Rachel chuckled.  "You know, if I didn't know better, I would have thought that you're…"

"Gay?" Hugh finished for her, chuckling.  "That's all right.  I'm used to it…"

"Oh, but I don't mean in a bad way…" Rachel took back her words.  "It's just that you're a little too…"

"Sensitive?" Hugh grimaced and Rachel slowly nodded.  "Yeah, that's what they all say.  But I'm not…not gay, that is…"  He sighed and wrinkled his forehead as he looked at Rachel.  "Hey, wait a minute!  How did we end up talking about this whole gay thing?  I asked about you…what you're doing here…but you haven't given me an answer…"

Rachel grinned guiltily.  "Yeah, I was hoping you wouldn't notice that…"

Smiling kindly, Hugh took his cue not to press for answer so he just leaned back on the bench and watched the people come and go before him.  He sighed, keeping his eyes fixated ahead of him.  "Rach, for what it's worth…just hang in there.  It'll get better soon…"

Unable to hold her tears any longer, Rachel rested her forehead against Hugh's shoulder and sobbed quietly.

Hugh sighed and put his arm around Rachel's shoulders.  He didn't say anything else.  He knew there was nothing else Rachel needed that moment but a firm shoulder to cry on.

=====

Ross turned off the TV, cutting off the only sound and the only source of light in the dark bedroom.  He sat in the dark for a few seconds, breathing in and out as he tried to shake off this unexplainable frustration that has been with him all day.  He didn't know what started it again, but then again, knowing what started it didn't even matter anymore.  For the most part, it was everything.  It seemed as though everything in his life was turning against him.  Nothing was right.  Nothing felt right.  It was things like this, thoughts like this, that always left him drained in his personal struggles.  His battle seemed never-ending, and everyday he grew more tired and weary than ever before, realizing that maybe, just maybe, he could not do this anymore.  But then, this was nothing new…

Leaning back on the stack of pillows behind him, Ross let out another sigh and brought his gaze to the snowy world outside the glass sliding doors.  Snow continued to fall, and from the looks of it they would get more than just dusting on the ground tonight.  Sighing heavily, he switched on the lamp on the nightstand and glanced at the antique desk clock wearily.  It was already late, but Rachel still hasn't come home.  He was getting worried.

"Rach, where are you?" he muttered grumpily a few minutes later, finally deciding to get on his wheelchair when he could no longer tolerate the shifting and turning he has been doing in his bed.  "God, Rach!  Can't you at least call?" he grumbled, glancing at the telephone before he rolled out of the bedroom.

_"And then what, Ross?"_ a voice seemed to ask in his head, challenging him, taunting him.  _"If she called and told you that she's stuck in the middle of the road somewhere, would you be able to drive and pick her up?" _ the uncertainty continued.

Annoyed and frustrated with incapability, Ross tightly clamped his jaw together and angrily rolled his wheelchair back to the bedroom.  No, he couldn't do any of those for Rachel.  Heck, he couldn't do anything for Rachel!  Even if Rachel were drowning in the middle of a vast ocean, the most he could do for her is watch her drown.  It was such a horrible mockery, a terrible insult; but it was the glaring truth.  No matter how hard he tried to rearrange the truth, the fact still remained that at this point, he was nothing but a useless burden on Rachel.  It was a disconcerting thought, but it was the truth—at least he felt that that was the truth.  He bet if he died instead over a year ago, Rachel probably would have been much better off today.  At least, she wouldn't have to worry about taking care of an invalid like him, and she wouldn't even have to work so hard to come up with extra money to pay for his therapies and medications.

He hated himself.  He didn't think he could ever hate anyone as much as he hated himself right that moment.

Before he could make his way across the room, he heard the garage door opened downstairs, and he let out a long sigh, both of relief and of frustration.  Before long, Rachel's footsteps were heard climbing the stairs, stopping by the children's bedrooms, and finally quietly walking towards their bedroom door.  

Rachel appeared less than a second later, her face expressionless.  "You're still up…" she commented flatly, not even bothering to look at Ross in the face.  Why bother, she thought.   He would probably just avoid her anyway.

"You…you d-didn't c-call…" Ross blurted out in the same flat tone.

"I worked late," Rachel lied.

Ross demeanor softened a little.  Slowly, he lifted his eyes to watch Rachel across the room.  She looked so tired, he thought.  He hated to see her coming home so late and so tired from work because it only reminded him that he should be the one doing that and not her.  He promised her the world, but look where that promise ended up.  "Some world I gave her…" Ross scoffed at himself.  

Deciding to let Rachel's explanation go, he kept quiet and only nodded.  "Okay…"

Rachel laughed sarcastically.  "So that's it?  You're sold with that explanation.  Did it even occur to you that I'm lying to you, or you really just don't care anymore?"  Out of bitterness, she spoke these words.  She didn't meant to hurt him, but all she wanted for him was to show her a teeny tiny hint that he still actually cared.

Ross opened his mouth, but he was too stunned, too hurt to say anything else.  Taking his usual exit, he maneuvered his wheelchair to head to the bathroom.

Rachel sighed and sat on the edge of the bed dejectedly.  She simply didn't know how to get to Ross anymore.  Before she could even pull herself together, tears clouded her vision and her emotions took over, leaving her feeling desperately helpless more than ever.  "Ross, why do you keep doing this?" she asked him, her voice breaking.

No response.  Only a sad, distant stare that Rachel couldn't even see.

"Why are you shutting me out?"  Rachel asked again, swallowing the big lump down her throat.  "Have I turned into this total monster to you that you just hate me…that you just detest me like this?"

"No," came Ross's lackluster reply.  That wasn't how he wanted her to feel at all.

"Then tell me why you're doing this?"  Rachel begged.  The hurt in her voice was so evident, but the tear-stained face she turned to Ross was more than he could handle; so he looked away.  Rachel sighed and wiped her tears with the back of her hand, thinking that it was, perhaps, time for this talk to happen between them before it drained them both completely.

"Ross, I am trying my best to understand you, to reach out to you…but you won't let me!" she cried with all the hurt she felt in her chest right that moment.  "Do you think it's easy for me to see you crying on someone else's shoulder, when all along I know you should be crying on mine?"

"B-but I-I d-don't w-w-want y-your pi-pity," Ross replied, keeping his emotions intact.  He didn't want to say anything, but he felt like he owed Rachel as much as an explanation, an answer to her question.

"Pity?" Rachel forced an embittered laugh, shaking her head in disbelief.  "You think I only feel pity towards you?  Well now that you told me this, maybe now I do!"  She retorted bitterly.  She bit her bottom lip and looked at Ross directly.  "This is so not fair.  God, Ross, is that how little you think of me?"  She did just about everything for him, but here he was, telling her that she could have very well just done those out of pity.  "You know what?  I actually don't know which life is more pitiful, yours or mine."

Rachel stood up and began pacing the floor, running shaky fingers through her hair.  "You want an example?" she challenged.  "Okay, let's see…I had a husband, but then you know, one night he got into this terrible accident.  You probably wouldn't be able to imagine how awful it must have been for me to receive that phone call in the middle of the night just as I was trying to put my baby daughter to sleep because, you know, she wouldn't stop crying because she's looking for her Daddy.  Then, I rushed to the hospital and guess what the doctors told me?  They told me that he might not live.  Do you know how hard it was for me to hear that?  I was devastated.  I didn't know what I'd do, but somehow I was forced to continue life as if everything was fine for the sake of my kids.  Then, of course, to make my pitiful story short, my husband woke up from his coma.  But you know, he was never the same after that.  But I took him home, deciding to take care of him myself even though people were throwing pity glances at me…maybe even thinking that I was crazy for doing that...But I didn't care, because that was the one thing that made sense to me…"

"It didn't end there though," Rachel spoke more slowly.  "I was forced to face circumstances where I was just stuck.  You know how hard it is to live a life and realize that you have no choices but to move forward or move forward some more, and worse, you're not ready for it?  Everyday, I lived my life like that.  Then of course, came the point when I was just forced to put my husband in an institution for the sake of my children.  And guess what?  The misery of 'poor Rachel' didn't end there.  You'd think that my life would have been so much easier, but it wasn't…"

Taking a brief moment to control herself, Rachel paused and took a long deep breath, taking a look at Ross who was stunned and hurt by the sting of Rachel's words.  They were true, he thought, so he accepted them.  Ross knew one of these days that what Rachel did for him would come back slapping his face.  She has every right to throw it back to his face nonetheless.  He didn't live up to his promises and that was _the_ fact.

Rachel cried before Ross openly.  Hurting him was the last thing she wanted to do, but she could no longer control the pain she felt.  It wanted to explode, it wanted to be set free, but most of all, her heart wanted Ross to see that she loves him in spite of everything that happened to them, wanted to let him know that he could trust her if he'd just let her.  She choked back a sob and ran a hand over her tear-stricken face, taking a seat on the edge of the bed across from Ross.  "Ross, why do we have to come to a point like this?  We've been through so much just this past year, but why can't you try to trust me?  Believe me, I wouldn't have done all these if it were only out of pity.  The fact that I'm still here, isn't that enough?"

Ross looked away, completely avoiding Rachel's face.  He was trying to keep a straight face, but his tears betrayed him.

"Ross, I'm trying to understand what you're feeling…"  She leaned forward and held Ross's hand.  "Please let me…"

Ross looked at Rachel's crying face.  It broke him to see her crying like this, begging him for something she probably shouldn't do anymore.  Rachel has already done so much for him, and Ross felt so ashamed of himself that she has done more for him than he for her.  In his mind, it should have been the other way.  In his mind, Rachel didn't deserved to be stuck with a man like him.

But Rachel didn't know this, so she kept trying, not knowing that unless Ross learned to deal with his weaknesses, she would never be able to reach out to him.

Rachel brought a hand to touch Ross's face, wiping his tears away with the pad of her thumb.  "No leaving, no giving up, remember?"  Her voice was strained, exhausted.  It was the one thing that kept her going after all these time.  It was her final card, the last straw of hope that she could still have her old life back.

Pulling a long, deep, painful breath, Ross despairingly took Rachel's hand off his face.  "I-I c-c-can't Rachel…c-c-can't do this a-an-anymore.  C-can't you s-s-see, I al-al-ready g-gave up?"  

In a moment of desperation, Ross spoke these words that hurt Rachel tremendously.  It stung and Rachel was left to think that perhaps all her hardships were all for a futile cause.  She looked away, seemingly stunned by what she just heard.  She forced a smile on her lips—a sad and very bitter smile.  With one deep breath, she turned her face to Ross, no longer hiding the hurt she felt that moment.  "See…" she began slowly, her voice breaking.  "Maybe that's why I got this all wrong…because I never did…"

Slowly, Ross looked at Rachel's pained face, trying to take in the enormity of her words. It woke him up, but his realization came too late.  Before he could say another word, she was gone…

=====

Rachel raised her hand to her face as she tried to catch the tears that were rapidly falling from her red-rimmed eyes.  Dolefully, she sighed, watching the remaining ice melt and mixed with the remaining alcohol in her glass.  With one gulp, she downed her drink.  She set her glass down on the coaster on the coffeetable, and leaned back on the navy corduroy couch, looking around the unfamiliar apartment.  She didn't know why she went there.  She was just driving around and then suddenly she was standing outside Hugh's door.

"Hey, you feeling better?" Hugh appeared less than a second later, carrying another bottle of scotch from the kitchen.

Rachel smiled weakly, wiping her tears away as she scooted down the couch to make room for Hugh.  She sighed and stared at her hands.  "You'd think after everything, he'd come back and help me pick up the pieces…but no," she mocked bitterly, shaking her head.

"I'm sorry," Hugh muttered sympathetically, stroking Rachel's back.

"Ugh!  I'm such a mess!" Rachel disgustedly wiped the tears that escaped her eyes again.  "I'm sorry for coming to you like this…just dumping all my troubles on you again…"

Hugh smiled sincerely and gave Rachel's hand a firm squeeze.  "Hey, no problem.  Like I said, anytime you need a friend, I'm here…"

"Thank you…" Rachel smiled at Hugh gratefully before resignedly leaning into his wide-open arms.  Rachel truly appreciated Hugh's friendship more than she'd dare to acknowledge.

"Did I mess this up completely?" Rachel asked exasperatingly, much too resigned to even think straight.  The pain from betrayal was much too intense for her, leaving her so helpless and vulnerable.  "Did I just make all the wrong decisions?  Because I'm telling you, it wouldn't have reached this point if only I made the right decisions."

"Hey now…" Hugh spoke softly, pulling from Rachel to look her directly in the eyes.  "Do…not…blame…yourself…" he iterated slowly, tucking the hair away from Rachel's face, smiling sympathetically into her eyes.  "You're a great, great person.  Great mom, great friend.  You're great, great, greatness," he finished half-jokingly, making Rachel smile even just a little bit.  He sighed and looked deeply into Rachel's eyes.  "You're wonderful…" he said more seriously this time, his eyes reflecting his deep sincerity.  Rachel was wonderful, as far as he was concerned.  If his ex-girlfriend were anything like Rachel, he knew he'd probably be the happiest man on earth.  "I mean it…" he whispered softly, leaning toward this inexplainable pull that was drawing him to her.  He didn't know what it was, but for some reason he felt deeply connected to her.  He could tell she was to him too…at least even for that moment.  Maybe it was all the alcohol.  Maybe it was the pain they both felt.  So without even giving it any more thoughts, he leaned in and kissed her.  To his surprise, she kissed him back…

_To be continued…_


	8. Wishes 7

**Wishes**

seven

_=====_

_Rachel,_

_I don't know where you are right now.  I've woken up just about everybody trying to find you, but wherever this email reaches you, please know that I'm sorry.  I am truly, deeply, sorry.  I was an idiot.  I became blinded with my own pain, my misgivings, my failures both as a father to our children, as a husband to you, that I just lost my senses completely.  I'm sorry…_

_All this time, I've just been burdened by the fact that I am unable to fulfill the duties, the responsibilities that are supposed to be mine.  Maybe it's pride.  Maybe it's a guy thing.  But every time you come home from work stressed and tired, I can't help but think, "That should be me, not her" or "She shouldn't be working this hard if only I am not stuck in this wheelchair with a speech-impediment."  Things like these.  I hate that I'm not able to do things for the family, for you…I hate that I'm not able to fulfill my promises, and that you have to bear the consequences as a result.  I guess this makes me feel less of a man, so that these last few weeks, I've just been having a hard time living with myself.  I've been battling, struggling hard, with my inner demons.  I'm just deeply sorry that I took it out on you.  You didn't deserve that.  Like I said, I'm an idiot for letting myself become blinded with my own worries.  So blinded that I lost sight of what's truly important to me, the only one that makes sense in my life…you._

_ I know I probably don't deserve to be given a second chance.  Nothing will probably erase the pain I've caused you.  I won't blame you if you still hate me after last night, but I'm going to swallow my pride and beg you this one more time…Please come home, Rachel.  Come home and give me another chance to try…or at least another chance to better explain things to you…to make it up to you.  Please?  Just please come home…I don't want to lose you…_

_Ross_

Rachel felt her throat constricting as she tried to concentrate on driving.  She could almost see Ross's words floating across the windshield, flashing all over the snow-blanketed roadside even in the stark darkness of the pre-hours before dawn.  The air in the car was heavy, thick to the point that she was choking up in it.  An overwhelming sense of guilt washed over her, and with every mile that she traveled a lonely teardrop fell from her eyes.  She blew it.  This time, it was her who blew it.

Keeping one careful hand on the wheel, Rachel reached for the bottled water on the passenger seat.  She took a big gulp, washing down the lump forming in her throat.  She looked far ahead, trying to focus, but no matter how hard she tried, the shock, the regret from the morning after of her illicit affair wouldn't stop haunting her.

What happened with Hugh the night before remained a big, hazy blur.  Intoxication both from pain and alcohol seemingly blocked off her brain from remembering anything, but as soon as both wore off, a glaring accusation slammed her face: she cheated on Ross.  

Guilt ate her up.  Unable to face the consequences of her careless acts, she slipped out of Hugh's apartment before he even woke up, went and checked in a motel to spend the remaining hours of the night…away from Hugh, and away from Ross more especially.  She couldn't face him just yet.  She felt dirty, evil, and weak all at the same time for giving in to something that was wrong to begin with.  But after so many missed calls on her cellphone, the email that Ross had painfully written, she decided it was time to go home.  She didn't know what would happen after that, but she just wanted to be with Ross again…if he'd still have her.

The cellphone rung, interrupting Rachel's thoughts.  Without even bothering to look at the number calling, she picked it up.

"Rach?"  It was Monica.  "Rachel, where have you been?  We've been looking all over the place for you!  Where'd you go?  Why didn't you answer your phone?"  Monica must have asked a million other questions, but when it was Rachel's turn to answer, she only came up with one word.  "Sorry…" Rachel said, her voice breaking.

A long pause followed on the other end of the line.  Then, Monica sighed.  "I'm sorry too…but just go home or at least call Ross.  He's been worried sick about you…"

A fresh batch of tears fell from Rachel's eyes without even trying.  She kept silent for a long time so Monica just assumed that Rachel was still distraught from whatever it was Rachel and her brother fought about the night before.  "Listen, be careful, okay?" Monica reminded concernedly.  "If you need to stop, stop.  Just drive carefully…and call Ross…Where are you by the way?"

"I…I'm on my way home," Rachel replied weakly, making a turn at the exit that marked the remaining ten miles before she reached home.

Monica said her goodbye and hung up after that, so Rachel was once again forced to deal with the guilt eating her up more than ever now.  It was the longest ten-mile drive she had to make, the hardest road to take.  She almost didn't want to keep going.  She didn't think she still has the nerve to show up at their doorstep after what she had done.

When the large house came to view, she pulled her breath, holding it in until she pulled up at the driveway.  She sat in the car for a long time, gathering her strength, whatever dignity she still has in her.  She was almost determined to drive away again, but Ross came outside.  His face was worn; his hair, unruly as if he ran his hands over them a million times all throughout his sleepless night.  

For what seemed like forever, their eyes locked in a powerful stare.  Neither one moved, but both were the aware of the very reason why they were both there.

Pulling herself together, Rachel slowly got out of the car and walked towards Ross as he waited for her in the front porch.  He smiled at her weakly, apologetically as she approached him.

"I-I'm so-sorry…" Ross managed to say, tears in his eyes.  He held out his hand to Rachel, and reluctantly, Rachel took it.

"Ross, I—"

Ross looked up at Rachel through his tears, giving her hand a firm but tender squeeze, gesturing to her that she needn't explain.

Rachel stood before him, tongue-tied, wanting nothing more than to work things out with Ross that very minute.  She forced a smile on her face despite her tears, putting her best face forward.  Without another word, she knelt down before him and went into his embrace, forgetting everything and remembering nothing but that moment when Ross's arms were finally around her again.

=====

The fresh aroma of newly baked blueberry muffins wafted in the kitchen as Ross waited for them to cool.  He smiled, half-proud and half-mocking himself for the muffins he baked himself as an attempt to make the most of his role as the temporary househusband.  He had to start at some point, he thought smilingly.  So, he picked that brand new day to start over and decided to make breakfast as a celebration for the new beginnings.  

A slow smile crept up on Ross's face as he caught the determined expression on James's face as the boy fervently wrote on a small notebook when he returned from the kitchen a few minutes later, wheeling his wheelchair toward the nook area with the tray of muffins on his lap.  "Wha-what are you do-doing?" he asked, stuttering a little, smiling at the boy as he set the tray on the table.

James looked up briefly at his father and shrugged his shoulders.  "Just my wish list…"

"F-for C-Chri-Christmas?" Ross asked again, one brow arched.

"No," James replied, putting his pencil down.  "Just my wishes.  I'm updating," he said as a matter-of-factly.

"Uh…up-updating?" Ross bit his bottom lip, stopping himself from laughing out loud.  Sometimes, he just wonders where James gets his vocabulary at such a young age.

"Yah," James said simply, his eyes round and unwavering.  "The list that Aunt Monica started up for me.  She said I should update it all the time."  He sighed, closed his notebook, and stared at it for a long time.  "Starly hasn't given me my three wishes," he spoke dully a few seconds later.  "I wished that you'd be able to walk again, I wished for Aunt Monica and Uncle Chandler to have a baby, and I wished for a dog…I still don't have those…"  He sighed again, his face fallen.  Nevertheless, as soon as he released the gloominess he felt, his expression slowly picked up and he broke into a slow smile.  "But I got my other wishes though…"

Ross smiled and ruffled the boy's dark hair.

"No!" James protested, playfully pushing his father's hand away from his hair.  "I fixed my hair already.  It already has the nice messy look to it.  Don't add to it."

Ross laughed quietly, teasing the boy even more so that James started throwing punches at him in the air.  "Argh!" James growled laughingly.  After the boy's futile feats, he finally gave up, sighing as he rested his chin on his hands on the table, smiling adoringly at his Daddy.  Their first couple of weeks together had been awkward, as the boy tried hard to adjust to having his father around again.  Increasingly, though, their situation was slowly changing.  The awkwardness was slowly fading; in its place, returning the deep affection, adoration, and trust that had once existed between them.

"You're going to teach me football in the summer, right?" James asked a moment later, his eyes wide with innocence.

Ross only smiled, leaning forward to plant a kiss on his son's head.  He was still uncertain whether he'd be able to walk again, but at this point, he'd like to think that he would.

"I love you, Daddy."  James grinned at his father.  "I'm happy you're not working anymore.  We get to do more things together this way."

"Me too…" Ross told his son.  Oddly enough, Ross felt it to be true.  His accident might have caused a lot of disruptions to his once perfect life, but along with these disruptions also came some blessings in disguise—time, being one of the gifts that was suddenly given to him.

Rachel paused by the hallway, quietly watching the father and son as she stood there, carrying Emma in her arms.  Their life was slowly falling back into place again, and the thought never failed to bring tears of joy to her eyes.

"Mommy," Emma called out a little worriedly, touching her tiny hands to her mother's face.  She said it a little to loudly that everyone's attention immediately turned to her.

Ross saw the tears in Rachel's eyes, so he smiled at her and held out his hand to her, calling her to him.  "Why?" he asked softly, kissing the tears away from Rachel's eyes before planting a tender kiss on her lips.

Rachel shook her head as she straightened up, smiling at Ross.  "Nothing," she mouthed.  "I'm just…happy…"

Ross smiled, not once taking his eyes off of Rachel, letting her know in a nonverbal gesture that he felt the same way.

"Boo-bewy!" Emma exclaimed, pointing to the muffins on the table, interrupting the tender moment between her parents.  Her blue eyes were wide with awe and her mouth nearly dropped in seeming surprise.

Both parents laughed at their daughter's priceless expression.  Both looked at their each other, at their children, with eyes carrying a clear-cut different twinkle.  It was a new day…a new beginning.  It has been quite successful so far and both were quite hopeful that it would stay that way.

=====

The double door entrance, the large colorful menu board, the orange couch, the green chair, the large multicolored mugs, the menu, the people—everything was just as Ross remembered Central Perk.  As he looked around the place, listening to the buzzing of different people from the different corners of the coffeehouse, a soft smile pulled at the corners of his lips.

"What are you smiling at?" Rachel asked, stroking Ross's arm that she has been cradling in her hands all afternoon long, hanging out with their friends in 'the spot' just like the old times.  James and Emma were at Ross's parents house, so she and Ross were free to spend the afternoon 'just like the old times' with their friends.

"Nothing…" Ross mouthed.  "Ju-just that this is fun…"

"Oh, can you two please listen?" Chandler put on a feigned offended expression and dramatically gestured to the couple, interrupting their conversation.  "Something important might have happened to Bob and you wouldn't even know it."

Joey looked at Chandler quizzically.  "Who's Bob?"

Chandler's jaw dropped.  "What?  Don't tell me you haven't been listening too?"  He looked at Phoebe, causing her to suddenly jerk up as she looked away from her fingers.  "Pheebs?"

"Oh yeah…Bob is that…" Phoebe trailed, coughing out the rest of her answer.

"Monica?" Chandler glanced at his wife, flashing her a questioning look.

Monica grinned at Chandler sheepishly, lifting her gaze from her wristwatch.  "I _think_ it's about time that we all leave for dinner.  I made the reservations for seven and we don't want to be late…"

"You should have made the reservations for eight," Phoebe commented blithely.  "Because eight rhymes better with late."

"Does it matter, Pheebs?" Monica asked, grimacing a little.

"Oh now, this you listen to," Chandler joined in sarcastically.  He rolled his eyes, shaking his head.  "Okay, c'mon!  Let's just go.  What are you all waiting for?  Christmas?" he asked, standing up

"Actually, Christmas is in five days…" Joey reminded, retrieving his coat from the back of the chair.

"Which reminds me…I haven't gotten any of you Christmas presents," Chandler grinned guiltily, looking like he was about to make a run out of the coffeehouse.

"That's all right."  Phoebe shrugged her shoulders, following Monica and Chandler out.  "As long as you're not going to give us one of those 'a donation has been made to your name' crap again this year."

Joey began to walk, shaking his head.  "Ross, Rach, you guys are coming right?"

Rachel nodded, grabbing her coat.  "Yeah, do you want a ride?"

Joey nodded.  "Yes, please…"

"Okay…" Rachel smiled, helping Ross to his coat.  "Just hang on a sec."

A gentleman on a few different occasions, Joey offered to push Ross out of the coffeehouse.  "Man, these chairs are so cool!" Joey commented, grabbing on both corners of the chair, spinning it around in preparation for the door.  "Imagine, you never have to worry about finding a chair because…you know…you always got one.  You're so lucky man!"  Joey patted Ross's shoulder.

"Ah…Joey, Joey, Joey…"  Rachel laughed, shaking her head as she followed the two.

They were by the doors when suddenly they opened and in came Hugh.  He stopped on his tracks as the awkwardness seemingly kept his feet glued to the ground.  His face, nevertheless, told Rachel that he has a reason for showing up that very minute.  Suddenly, Rachel grew worried.  She stood there, unable to say another word until Ross broke the silence and, for the first time, greeted Hugh.

Hugh returned the greeting with a smile and a polite nod.  His response was more subdued than before, but it was still courteous.  Taking a deep breath, he turned to Rachel, making her more edgy than ever.  "Can I, can I talk to you for a few minutes?" he asked, biting his bottom lip.

"Um…now?" Rachel asked, hoping that her nervousness wouldn't show for many reasons—one being Ross was just right there.

"Yeah…if you don't mind," Hugh replied awkwardly.

Rachel smiled timidly, her pulse quickening by the beat.  She had a feeling what it was the Hugh wanted to talk about.  She had been avoiding him all the week for the sole reason of avoiding 'the talk.'  She knew what she did was wrong, and now that things were working out with Ross again, she just didn't want to be reminded of that mistake.  

Worriedly, Rachel stole a glance at Ross, only to find him staring back at her with a baffled look on his face.  Ross smiled at her, nonetheless, giving her a nod before gesturing to the doors.  "We'll w-wait out-outside," he told her reassuringly, flashing Rachel a kind and trusting smile that just drove her insanely guilty.  She hated the feeling.  Though she was not exactly lying to him about anything, she hasn't told him the whole truth either; and that to her was lying, and she couldn't be guiltier about it.

As soon as the doors closed behind Ross, Rachel drew in a deep breath and slowly turned to face Hugh.  "Hi…" she greeted lamely.

Hugh turned red, almost unable to look Rachel in the eye.  "Look, I'm sorry to do this, but I think we really have to talk…"  He inhaled deeply, and gestured to the empty loveseat by the window.  He led the way, and Rachel reluctantly followed, keeping a good distance away from him once they sat down.

"Okay, about what happened…" they started at the same time, causing them to fall into another bout of awkwardness for a split second.

Hugh smiled weakly.  "Maybe I should begin…" he suggested almost immediately, cutting to the chase without giving Rachel a chance to say anything.  He rubbed his hands together and cleared his throat.  "Well, I guess the reason why I want to talk to you is because I want to apologize.  Rachel, I am sorry for…you know…doing what I did.  I just woke up the next morning and I just felt awful…Then you started avoiding me at work…" he couldn't even finish his sentence.  "I hope my stupidity didn't ruin our friendship completely…"

"Well…" Rachel bit her bottom lip.  "It's not entirely your fault…I'm sorry too…"

"But I should never have—"

"Maybe it'd be best if we just forget about this?" Rachel suggested, wincing a little.

"You're right…" Hugh smiled.  "So, are we cool?" he asked, uncertain.

Rachel smiled awkwardly.  "I guess…"  

"Good," Hugh sighed, seemingly more relieved.  "Because I don't want to just leave things weird between us before I relocate to Italy for my new job."

"Oh yeah…you're leaving…" Rachel recalled, suddenly feeling much more relieved.  At least, she wouldn't have to bump into Hugh every single day anymore.

"Right. And you're taking over my old position at Ralph Lauren."  Hugh paused for a long moment and then released a sigh, looking at Rachel timidly.  "So we're cool, right?  You're not mad at me or anything?"

"No…"  Rachel smiled at Hugh one last time.  Her friendship with him was probably never going to be the same again, but she was glad that they somehow managed to put that one drunken mistake behind them.

"And I'm guessing you want to keep this a secret?"

Rachel blushed a little, suddenly getting a mental flash of Ross before her.  She didn't want to keep a secret from her husband, but they were still in the process of rebuilding their relationship and she didn't want anything to come in to jeopardize that.  She was wrong that one time; she knew that.  But, it wasn't like she was planning to do it again.  "Yes, please…"

"Done."  Hugh gave Rachel a polite nod.  "I guess this is it.  Good luck…"

"Good luck to you too," Rachel replied politely.  "I should get going…"  After one final glance, she left Hugh sitting by the table and walked out of the coffeehouse, closing the doors behind her, closing the chapter of her life that she didn't want to revisit again.

=====

Ross looked up from the book he was reading and smiled at his daughter as she poked her head into the bedroom...again.  Emma had been back and forth, running to and fro, doing exactly just that, watching him 'secretly.'  When he would catch her, she would grin back sheepishly and run away giggling.

"Yes, Emma?" Ross arched an inquisitive brow, rolling his wheelchair forward a little bit.

Adorably, Emma giggled, covering her mouth with her hands before running away again.

Ross laughed, shaking his head.  He wasn't sure if the girl wanted to play or what.  It was already her bedtime and yet she was still doing all this running in her pajamas.

Emma returned, a few seconds later.  More shyly this time, she poked her head into the room and grin sheepishly at her Daddy when she caught him already staring at her.  A little hesitant to come in at first, she stayed put by the door, as if waiting for her father to cue her in.

Ross gestured the girl to come closer.  Timidly, Emma took slow steps towards him.  She had her hands behind her back and later Ross realized that the girl was carrying a large storybook behind her.  Wondering if that had been the reason why she had been running back and forth into the bedroom, he smiled at her and asked, "Do…do you w-want m-me to r-read to you?"

Emma nodded slowly and looked up at her father with her big, blue eyes.  "Yes please, Daddy…" she said sweetly.  More boldly this time, she climbed on her father's lap, shifted until she found a cozy position, and smiled up at him appreciatively.

Wordlessly, Ross kissed the top of Emma's head and she snuggled closer to him.  With a soft sigh escaping his throat and a tender smile gracing his lips, he flipped the storybook open.  He had always wondered if this kind of moment would ever happen again, but it did and it was way much better than he'd imagined.

Finally, his life was falling back into all the right places again—at least now it felt like it.  It has been a trying learning and healing process for him—still is—but increasingly, everyday he has been coming to terms with his present reality.  He just hoped that nothing would come to disrupt the stability for a while.  If that happened, he didn't think he'd know what to do anymore.

=====

"I'm stubborn…I believe…"

Rachel smiled as she watched her son faded into unconsciousness still mumbling the last line of his wish verses.  Tenderly, she touched his cheek and planted a feathery kiss on the tip of his nose.  "Night Jamesy-cuckoo…"

James gurgled his reply, rolling onto his side, rolling out of his blanket to reveal his chunky tummy.

Rachel giggled softly, fixing the blanket around the boy.  "Oh, Jamesy…what are you going to do without Mommy?"  She smiled and kissed the boy's forehead.  The one thing that she perhaps had been always fortunate with was that she never had to live far from her children.  She didn't think she could do it.  She had witnessed how hard it had been for Ross and their children to readjust to each other, and she simply didn't think she could handle a situation like that for herself.

Sighing, she turned off the lights and left the room.

Wondering if Emma was finally asleep, she sauntered over to her room only to find the girl's bed empty.  With a thoughtful furrow across her forehead, she walked back to the hallway and headed for her own bedroom.

"Ross, is Em—"

"Ssshh…" Ross silenced her, happily gesturing to the sleeping toddler in his arms.  His eyes were twinkling and his smile was just full of pure delight.

Rachel never realized how much she missed this picture until she saw them again.  Wheelchair and Emma's length aside, the coziness and the warmth were still there.  "She's beautiful, isn't she?"

Ross nodded, planting yet another tender kiss on Emma's forehead.

"I think she really missed you more than she'd like to admit…" Rachel sat on the bed before Ross and Emma, and gently stroked her daughter's soft honey curls.  "But you're gonna have to prepare yourself mister because this girl, I'm sure, would be coming to you every night from now on, asking you to rock her to sleep…"  She smiled at Ross, gently stroking his ear, and he smiled at her, leaning forward to kiss her softly on the lips.

A soft, satisfied smile crossed Rachel's face as she pulled away.  Soon after, she yawned, making Ross chuckle.  "Hey, that's not funny…I'm sleepy.  It has been a long day," she defended, feigning a pout. And when it was Ross who let out a tired yawn, she giggled right back at him.

"Do you want to bring her into her room or should I do it?" Rachel asked.

Ross grinned at Rachel sheepishly and handed her the sleeping child.

"Lazy bum," Rachel joked, taking Emma from Ross.

"Thank you," Ross replied, kissing Rachel's cheek.

Rachel grinned, glad that she could, little by little, start joking with Ross again without having had to worry about offending him.  She really missed that kind of interaction between them.

As if reading Rachel's thoughts, Ross grinned mischievously and gave her a playful slap in the butt before she left.  Rachel arched her brow, pulling a mock-glare at her husband.  "You're so going to pay for that later!"  With a haughty exit, she made her way out, leaving Ross laughing after her.

The phone rang less than a second after Rachel left.    Unhurriedly, Ross picked it up on the third ring.  "He-Hello?"

It was a woman and she sounded very angry.

"Hi, this is Marisa, Hugh's fiancée.  I'm guessing you're the husband.  So if you could just give Rachel my message, that would be great…"

"Okay…" Ross replied unsurely.  He had no idea what Hugh's girlfriend suddenly wanted from Rachel.

"Yeah, tell her that she's a b*tch for sleeping with my boyfriend!"

Ross didn't even get to finish the rest of Marisa's message.  He didn't think he needed to.  He heard enough.

To be continued… 


	9. Wishes 8

**Wishes**

eight

=====

Ross was left dumbstruck by the phone call.  He felt hurt, betrayed, and angry at the same time.  Rachel slept with Hugh?  The question kept bugging him.  Mental images of them together flashed through his mind like a horrible movie he couldn't shut off.  He tried, but he just couldn't.

He tried to justify Rachel's action, but no matter what reason or logic he used, a fact still stood clear in his mind: Rachel cheated on him.  He knew he hasn't been much of a husband to her, but that didn't give her the right to sleep with someone else, did it?  And specifically, not with Hugh!  Rachel knew how much he hated the man, so why would she…

Ross shook his head.  He was jumping to his own conclusions too fast, he thought.  He didn't have any proof to doubt Rachel.  And if it did happen, Rachel would have already told him, or would she?

He was torn—torn between giving Rachel the benefit of a doubt and believing that cruel, insane woman on the phone.  If he trusts Rachel at all, he should know that his Rachel would never do that to him.  But, what if…

Ross's train of thoughts was interrupted when Rachel returned to the bedroom.  She pulled a face at him, thoughtful.  "Why the face?" she asked softly, gently smoothing the crease on his brow as she slid next to him in bed.

Ross exhaled, debating whether he should ask Rachel about the phone call or not.  He looked at her and found her smiling sweetly at him, her faced touched with concerned.  "Well?" she pressed again, carefully studying his face as she laced her fingers with his.

Ross looked down at their clasped hands.  Sighing, he covered Rachel's hand with his free hand and gently ran it up her arm.  He lifted his eyes to hers slowly, and then smiled.  "Nothing…" he shook his head.

A look of tender affection crossed Rachel's face and she smiled at him, leisurely leaning down into Ross's arms, resting her head against his shoulder.  "I love you Ross…" she whispered just before she closed her eyes.

Ross smiled weakly, mindlessly running his fingers down Rachel's silky locks.  He kissed her head, but hardly giving it any thought.  His mind was in a completely different place.  He didn't want to ruin what little of the relationship he and Rachel were trying to work on, but what if everything the woman said were true?  He closed his eyes, shaking his head as he reached over to switch off the only light on in the room.  Until he got proof, he wouldn't believe the woman on the phone.

=====

Rachel anxiously glanced at the time, and then began pacing the floor.  In five minutes, she would walk in through those large mahogany doors as the new head of the marketing department and present her proposals for the upcoming year.  She was nervous and very much so.  Hugh already briefed her about this some weeks ago, but still, she couldn't help but feel like she were a cat entering the den of lions.  All the company's big-time executives would be there and she would be the only newbie in the room.

The sound of the telephone ringing nearly caused her to jump out of her skin.  With shaking hand, she picked it up.  "Hello?"

"Y-you're sh-shaking."  Ross laughed on the other line.

Rachel released a breathy chuckle, realizing that she was, indeed, shaking.  "I guess I am…"  She relaxed a bit, sitting on the edge of her desk.  "Honey, I'm so glad you called.  I'm very nervous about this presentation."

"Nah…you're g-gonna go in there and kick ass."

"Hey, you said that without stuttering too much," Rachel joked, sighing, wishing that Ross were there with her right that same minute.

"J-just trying to be su-supportive of the woman of the house," Ross joked back, chuckling a little.

"Thanks…" Rachel replied sweetly.

"Well…I j-just called to-to wish you g-good luck…"

"Okay…"  Rachel glanced at the time, almost not wanting to end the phone call yet.  "Love you, honey…"

"You too…"

With a sigh, Rachel hung up the phone.  At last, things were starting to feel 'normal' again.  She just really hoped that it would stay like this for a long time.

She skimmed through her presentation outline for one last time.  Satisfied, she stood up and resumed her pacing while she ran her speech in her head.  Without even thinking, her right hand went for her wedding band—an old habit that she hasn't done for quite some time, but something she suddenly felt the urge to do.  It wasn't there though when she touched it.  Immediately, she looked down at her left hand, her face perplexed.  She never took it off as far as she was concerned.  When, where, or how it slipped off her finger, she didn't know.

Before she could process her thoughts further, the door opened and her assistant poked her head into her office.  "Mrs. Geller, they're ready for you…"

"Okay…" Rachel blindly mumbled, looking at her left ring finger again.  Grabbing her presentation outline, she left the room, running in her head all the possible scenarios as to where and how she lost her wedding band.

=====

After three baby steps and one near-slip, Ross returned to his wheelchair and pushed his walker away.  Little by little, Carrie instructed.  She told him to give the walker a try and walk a few steps at a time, and he did.  For the first time, he finally gathered all his courage and got up on his two feet again.  It was a scary but very exhilarating experience and his children couldn't be more proud.

Watching Daddy on the side, James and Emma giddily applauded their father for the job well done.  "Yay!  Daddy can walk now!" James cheered, clapping his hands.  "Daddy, do you think by Christmas you'll be able to go skiing?  Grandpa Green invited me to go skiing with him but Mommy said no because she said I'm a handful to take and Grandpa Green might have a hard time with me and I'm thinking that maybe if an old person come with me, Mommy will let me.  I really want to go skiing and Christmas is in three days…Do you think we can go together?"

Ross chuckled lightly, finding it funny how the boy could go on and on without pausing and never run out of breath.  "Hmm…s-skiing?" He pretended to ponder the boy's question for a bit.

"Can I come?" Emma wailed, jumping on her feet as she hung onto to the armrest of Ross's wheelchair.  "I want to skiing too!"

Ross grinned and kissed his daughter's head.  "O-of course you c-can come, sweetie.  But no one's g-going s-skiing this year.  M-maybe next?"

"Ow, all right…" James sighed, a little disappointed.  "You promise?"

"We-we'll see…" Ross smiled, ruffling the boy's hair.

"Aw, c'mon!" James whined.

"James, be good!" Emma scolded her brother, pointing a finger at him.

Ross laughed at his two children.  Their interaction just reminded him so much of him and Monica when they were younger.  Monica had always acted like she knew better, and he—being the spoiled little boy that he was—had always been the griper.  "Ah…you kids," he muttered laughingly, putting an arm around each of his kids on opposite sides of his wheelchair.

The sound of the doorbell caused all three heads to look at the front door.

"Mommy?" James and Emma asked simultaneously, looking at each other.

"I don't think so…" Ross mumbled knowingly, making a headway towards the door.  Rachel has a house key, so she definitely wouldn't ring the doorbell.

"Hi…m-may I he-help you?" he asked the woman that appeared when he opened the door.  She was average height, blonde hair, blue eyes.  Her right brow was arched up and she carried about her an aura that only Amy's friends have, Ross noted.  He wasn't sure if he'd seen the woman before, but he thought she looked familiar.

"Hi," she greeted in a lackluster tone.  "You probably don't remember me, but I'm Marisa, Hugh's girl—"  She stopped and shook her head.  "Well, ex-girlfriend now…but we spoke on the phone?"

Ross felt his heartbeat racing and his palms suddenly started sweating.  He wasn't sure why this Marisa girl was standing by his doorstep, but he didn't like this bad feeling that she stirred in him.  Her jeering eyes spelt nothing but trouble.  "Y-yes?"

Marisa pulled out something from her purse.  "Well, I was over Hugh's apartment, getting some of my stuff…since, you know, we broke up.  Then, I saw this under the bed."  She handed Ross a gold ring.  "I believe this belongs to your wife…It has both your names engraved on the inside so I figured it's hers…"  With a triumphant smile, she arched her brow and folded her arms across her chest.  "Next time, tell her if she's going to cheat on you, don't leave any trace…"

Too stunned to speak, Ross stared at the ring in his hand for a long time. Numbness was his initial reaction to the shock of the woman's revelation, but as soon as that wore off, all he was left with was rage.

=====

Rachel carefully opened the drawer on the nightstand and pulled out her jewelry box, hoping that perchance she took off the ring at some point, put it there, but forgot about it because of the problems she's had in the last few weeks.  It wasn't there.  She checked every piece of jewelry in the box, but she didn't find her wedding ring.

Sighing, she closed the jewelry case and set it back in the drawer.  She almost wanted to cry.  The ring was important to her.  Sure, it was just a small and perhaps unimportant symbol or marriage, but that ring symbolizes her marriage to Ross.  They came so close to losing their marriage this past year, and that just made the ring even more valuable to her.  She couldn't lose her marriage and she couldn't possibly lose her wedding ring.

She stood up and went to the chest of drawers, checking every single niche that the ring could have possibly slipped her finger without her notice.  It had become loose around her finger this past year, but she just insisted on wearing it despite the fact that it probably needed to be resized again.

"L-looking for this?"

The sound of Ross's voice made Rachel stop what she was doing.  Unguardedly, she turned around and found him holding what appeared to be a ring.  His face was expressionless, but his eyes told her so much more that left her apprehensive, almost fearful.  "Where-where did you find it?"  She swallowed hard.  She didn't need to take a closer look to figure out that it was her ring that Ross was holding in his hand.  She didn't even need to hear Ross's answer to know where he found it.  How he got it, she didn't know; what she knew was that the truth needed to come out.  She just hoped that when all is said and done, Ross would still find it in his heart to forgive her.

Ross's chest heaved up and down as his hand tightened on the ring.  He took a deep breath, gritting his teeth.  "May-maybe you s-should ask yourself that," he said coldly.  The pain he felt was more than he could bear that all he wanted to do was to take it out on Rachel and make her hurt the way he was hurting.  She betrayed him.  She cheated on him.  Just looking at her made his blood curl furiously inside him.  He couldn't imagine how anyone could love someone as much as he loves Rachel, yet at the same time hate her just as much.  It was a grueling torment and it was killing him.

Tears gathered at Rachel's lids before she could even reply.  She took steps toward Ross but stopped just as she was only a couple of steps away from him.  "Ross, how—"

"You s-slept with Hugh," Ross accused, looking down on his lap, unable to look Rachel in the eye.  "Ma-Marisa came this…this af-afternoon.  She…she found this un…"  He closed his eyes, unable to continue further.

Rachel had no idea what Marisa had to do with this.  She didn't know if Hugh told her or she just found out about it by accident.  It didn't even matter to her how, but, for certain, she didn't intend for Ross to find out about it this way.  "Ross, I…"

"How-how c-could you, Rach?"  This time, he lifted his eyes and all there were, were tears from pain and bitterness.  "Rach, how…why…"  Millions of question raced through his head, but not one could make it out of his mouth as each one was blocked by the unbearable pain he felt.  Rachel couldn't possibly do that to him and that was the hardest thing he had been trying to struggle with since Marisa's unexpected visit.

Rachel brought her hand to her mouth as she choked back a sob, resignedly sliding down to the floor, unable to hold her knees up as regret and hopelessness of the situation pulled the strength out of her.  "Ross, you have to know that I never wanted for it to happen.  It was a mistake…a stupid, stupid mistake.  I was hurting and I was not myself and I—"

"Do-don't even bo-bother to-to explain," Ross ordered flatly, looking away.  "It…it doesn't make things be-better, does it?"

"I'm sorry…" Rachel cried remorsefully.  "I'm so sorry…"

Ross brought his fist to his mouth and looked everywhere and anything but Rachel.  "You know, I just want to hurt you right now," he stated slowly with much bitterness.  "You…you of-of all people…"  He shook his head.

"Ross…"

"I-I r-realized that I…I haven't e-exactly gi-given you the easiest time but—"

"Ross…please listen to me…"

Ross remained quiet for a moment then he forced out a bitter chuckle.  "You know…m-maybe this-this ma-marriage was doomed from-from th-the beginning…"

Rachel searched Ross's face for forgiveness, but he wouldn't even look at her.  He couldn't even look at her.  "Ross please don't do this…" she begged.

He looked away resignedly, unable to face her any longer.

"Ross, please listen to me…."  Rachel begged one more time.  She wasn't trying to justify her wrongdoing; she was just not ready to accept that it was the end of them.  Swallowing her pride, she took a deep breath and looked up at Ross with tears in her eyes.  "Ross, I know what I did was wrong and I'm sorry.  Believe me, if I could take it back, I would…"  She drew in a deep breath, taking a moment to collect herself.  "Ross, please…"

Desperation drove her to beg him.  On her knees, she went to him and held his hand against her face, palm open as if in a position to slap her.  "Hurt me and I'll take it…just please…" she cried.

Unable to hold the sight of Rachel crying and begging him, he cupped her face and placed a tender but bittersweet kiss on her forehead.  He loved her too much to hurt her.  He couldn't, for the life of him, make himself hurt her no matter how his own bitterness was pushing him to.  So he just held her.  Painful as it was for him, he held her.  Fingers trembling, he lifted her chin up to him, brushed the hair away from her face, and kissed her, kissing her pain away though his insides were aching.  He wanted to make things work between them.  He wanted to put the past behind them…

But, images of Rachel and Hugh kissing and naked together kept flashing in his head, so he pulled away, his shoulders shaking.  He wanted nothing more than to get past this, but he couldn't.  The wound was still fresh and he wasn't even sure it would ever heal.  

Heart breaking, Ross took one deep breath and gently pushed Rachel away, slowly retracting his wheelchair farther and farther from her.  His mind was muddled, and at this point, this was all too much for him to take.  He was healing, but he wasn't completely healed.  He was slowly coming to terms with his present reality, but not yet fully.  So for this to be suddenly thrown his way, it was unbearable.  Exhaustingly, Ross ran a hand over his face, shaking his head.  "I-I can't do-do this anymore Rach…"

Rachel slowly lifted her face to meet Ross's gaze across the room.  One look was all it took and she knew her marriage was over.

=====

"Mommy, NO!" James cried, clinging tightly to Rachel's hand.  "Mommy, you can't go!"

Rachel closed her eyes, taking a deep breath before kneeling down before James who was crying after her, asking her to stay.  She had planned on leaving when the kids were already asleep.  But James, as if sensing that something was about to happen, woke up just as she was about to walk out the door.  "Listen, Jamesy, Mommy just has to go away for a few days, okay?" she told him, her voice shaking as she dried his tears away.  Leaving her children was the hardest thing for her to do, but she had to—or at least she thought she had to.  She was the one who committed the unpardonable so she should also be the one to leave…not Ross.

"But Mommy, it's almost Christmas.  You can't go on a business trip!" James sobbed.  Angrily, he kicked Rachel's suitcase that was by the door.  "Ass!  Ass!" he cursed the bag out of frustration.

"James…"  Rachel cried, pulling her child to her.

"Mommy, I don't want you to go," James cried remorsefully against Rachel's shoulder, hugging his mother tightly.  "Why do you have to go?  You said people don't work on Christmas so why do you have to go?"

"I'm sorry sweetie," Rachel whispered, unable to get her words out anymore.  Raw emotions hung heavily in her heart, making her unable to speak.  She took a deep breath and pulled back, holding her son by his shoulders so she could look him in the eyes.  "Mommy's going to come back for you, okay?  So you don't have to cry…"  She forced a smile on her lips, drying James's tears away.  "And of course, I can't forget to come for my baby on Christmas now, can I?  Mommy just need to go away for a while…"

"But you can't go, Mommy!" James whimpered, his eyes filled with tears.  "I know you're going away for a long time because you have a big bag just like Daddy when he had to go away for a long time and I don't want that!"

"I know James…I don't either…but—"

"Mommy, I don't want you to go…" James pleaded, sobbing.  "Daddy, tell her not to go!"

Rachel looked at Ross helplessly as he appeared from the dark in the living room, but he looked away almost as soon as their eyes met.

"Daddy, tell her not to go…" James sobbed, more desperate this time.  "Please Daddy…"  He ran to him, tugging on his father's hand.  "Daddy, tell Mommy not to go…please…"

The boy was already hysterical.  One more cry from James and Rachel was sure that Ross would have done what his son asked him.  But, she also knew that if he asked her to stay, it would all be for the wrong reasons.  In the end, it would not only hurt them both, but also their children—and perhaps even more so when they have to live with parents who are fighting all the time.  She didn't want any of them to reach that point.  So, gathering all her strength, she looked at James for one last time, grabbed her bags, and left without saying another word.

The moment she pulled the door closed, hot tears stung her eyes.  They fell uncontrollably, not showing signs of ceasing.  Her chest felt so tight that she didn't think it was still possible to breathe.  What she felt was beyond sadness, beyond guilt, beyond reason or explanation she could come up to describe what she was feeling.

"Mommy!"  She could still hear James crying as he pounded on the door with each step she took away from her home.  "Mommy, don't leave Jamesy!  Mommy don't go…"

Rachel cried, perhaps the hardest in all those times she shed tears…because this time, she lost it all…

=====

"Rachel & Ross…No leaving…" the engraving read on the inside of Rachel's wedding band.  With a despondent sigh, he placed the ring carefully inside the box next to his where the engraving of the "…No giving up…" shimmered against the light.  He smiled wistfully, tears gently rolling down his cheeks.  He didn't want it to be the end of them, but perhaps it would be better for them to part their ways and heal separately.  Time has wounded them, leaving them both with broken spirits.  If they stuck together, in spite of it all, it just might make matters worse.  Two broken people would never add together to equate to a stable marriage, he thought.  One way or another, they would just bring each other down, and together they would only end up living in misery.

"It's better this way…" he whispered, setting the rings back to the drawer and shutting it closed.  He leaned back on the bed, against the pillows, and squeezed his eyes shut.  "Rachel…" he cried softly as he pulled one of the pillows on Rachel's side of the bed, hugging it close to his face, inhaling the scent that was distinctly Rachel's—his Rachel.

She was gone now…this time, possibly forever…

=====

James sobbed quietly in the dark.  "Mommy…" he continued to whimper.  "Mommy, don't go…"  He wiped his tears against his pillowcase and choked back another sob.  He couldn't understand why she had to go.  He only knew one thing: he wanted her to stay.

"She's gonna come back for you and Emma…" his Daddy assured him when he put him to bed again, but he couldn't be convinced.  He just wanted them all together again…just like before…when Emma still couldn't talk and all he ever wanted for breakfast was Cheerios with milk and strawberries...when his Mommy didn't work and his Daddy could still walk.  They were happy then and no one cried a lot.

He sniffed as he rolled onto his side, wiping the fresh tear that fell from his eyes with the back of his hand.  With a wistful sigh, he reached for Starly on his nightstand and held it close to his chest.  "Starly, you'll make my wishes come true, right?" he asked, almost pleading.  "Well I hope you do because this one is really important to me…"  Taking a long meaningful sigh, he closed his eyes.  "Dear, dear Starly.  Please make Mommy come home soon.  Please, please make it happen.  I'm stubborn.  I believe…"

_To be continued…_


	10. Wishes 9

**Wishes**

nine

=====

The hushed sounds of the city life down below infiltrated the walls of Rachel's apartment of eighteen months and Rachel, who had been watching the red digits on her alarm clock changed forms as she lay in bed, finally gave up on sleep and threw her feet down on her plush slippers, grabbing the claret velour robe over the back of the chair as she left the bedroom.

She had no idea what had triggered her memory to journey through her past with Ross again.  Since she relocated to Milan, she never really let herself think about him or that past she shared with him.  It was just too painful, draining, and every time she'd remember that one single year that seemingly erased the previous years they shared prior, her chest would feel tight, making it hard to breathe…which was why she couldn't understand why of all memories, her mind, this time, picked the time from when he got into that accident to the time that they finally ended… 

She sighed, shaking off her melancholy before it could really sink in, wiping the tears that had kept her cheeks damp.  It felt as though she had just finished watching a very sad movie.  Only, it wasn't a movie.  It was the story of her life.  

Securing the belt of her robe around her waist, she lazily sauntered across the dark living room to the chestnut-paneled kitchen, and decided, when she reached the doorframe, to treat herself to the Italian ice cream she bought earlier that day instead of just getting a glass of water as she was planning to do originally.  

In the kitchen, she grabbed a small spoon and then pulled out a pint of her favorite mint-chocolate gelato from the freezer.  Not comfort food, she quickly reasoned.  She really just wanted something cold in her mouth.  She wanted to think that she was finally moving on.  It was better this way.  It made her feel better to think this way.

She marched back to the living room and plopped herself down the oversized chair in the middle of the small but tastefully decorated space.  She kicked off her slippers and propped her socked feet up the wooden coffeetable as she dug a chockfull of the cold frozen treat in the small tub in her hand.  It was a cold night and the frozen Milan cityscape made it seem even colder inside her apartment that she shivered as the ice cream slid down her throat.  Instinctively, she reached up behind her and pulled a checkered afghan from behind the couch and wrapped it snuggly around her.  She kept eating her ice cream, however.  She didn't know why, but she just loved that cold yet blissful torment.  The temperature could very well drop below zero, but armed with a warm blanket, she'd still gladly eat ice cream.  There was something very familiar and comforting about doing it.  She didn't know what it was, though; she still has yet to figure it out.

Taking a slow, deep breath, she turned her head to the side, pressing it at the high back of the chair until she found a comfortable position.  For a while, she watched the cityscape before her eyes, watched as the lights jumped from one distant building to another like the Christmas lights that she had once watched outside her living room window.

She could almost see the dance of lights on the holiday lawn decors again, could almost feel in her hands the warmth of the cup of tea that Ross had prepared for her before he went upstairs to tuck the kids to bed.  She could almost…

Here she goes again.  Rachel smiled wistfully, shaking her head as she willed herself out of her whimsies.  Three years since that last happened.  Two years since she was forced to abandon the idea that it would happen again.  She should stop doing it.  Really, she should…

=====

Shifting the four-year-old Emma in his arms, Ross pulled the top covers and gently laid his daughter down to her bed.  Emma opened her eyes momentarily, gurgled a few words before drifting back to sleep with a soft smile on her lips.  Affectionately, Ross smiled and gently pushed the honey curls away from her face, brushing a soft kiss against her forehead.  "Night-night, Ems…" he whispered, straightening up as he tucked the covers underneath the girl.

Hard as he tried not to think about Rachel, he finally learned to accept the fact that it was impossible.  Everyday, Emma was growing to remind him more and more of his estranged wife.  From the deep blue eyes, to the honey-colored hair, to the distinctive chin that was slowly becoming prominent in Emma's features, to the girl's developing fashion sense, Emma is the little Rachel—which was why moving on from Rachel hadn't exactly been a piece of cake for him.

"Rachel..."  It still hurt to say her name, but somehow he had to get it out of his system.  His chest felt tight hearing it, but he also knew that if he didn't release it, the pain would be ten times worse.  This evening, in particular, his mind has been replaying that painful part of his life.  He wished it would stop, but it wouldn't.  It wouldn't quit until he was filled with the emotions he felt back then.  He liked to think that he was finally moving on, but then moments like this still come and take him back to step one.

Ross shook his head, willing himself to snap out of it.  If he didn't, he'd get teary-eyed again or be filled with bitterness towards Rachel, which wouldn't be good for the kids.  It's bad enough that James and Emma had to be flown back and forth between him and Rachel just so they could have both parents.  And for him to hold this grudge against Rachel?  It's not healthy.  She is still, after all, the mother of his children. 

Quietly, Ross stood up and left Emma's room.  Once in the hallway, he glanced at the window at the end of the narrow passage and then at the time on his wristwatch: 11 pm.  He wasn't sleepy yet, and he knew if he went to bed, thoughts of Rachel would only pervade his mind, so he opted not to hit the sack just yet.

He went downstairs, into the kitchen with every intention of making himself some tea.  But then at the last minute, he pulled out a small pint of mint-chocolate ice cream from the freezer instead, and headed to the living room to wind down in his favorite chair by the window overlooking the dazzling display of Christmas lights against the snow-covered ground.

After scooping a spoonful of ice cream from the tub, meticulously picking out the mint-chocolate bits, Ross brought the spoonful into his mouth.  He shivered, swallowing the creamy coldness as he watched the descent of snow outside his window.  Unthinkingly, he reached behind him and pulled the fleece blanket hanging over the back of the chair and wrapped it snuggly around him.  He wasn't sure why he does that, really, eating ice cream despite the already chilly weather and then wrapping himself with a blanket.  He started doing it at some point.  He just couldn't remember when or even from whom he learned what he now thought was a peculiar practice.  But, there was really something that felt familiar about it.  He just couldn't pinpoint what it was exactly.

As he racked his brains, his attention was brought to the two large boxes in the corner of the living room.  Those two boxes contained the last of Rachel's things in his house.  He had been cleaning every night for the past month, de-cluttering the entire house of its unnecessary junk.  So when he came across Rachel's things, he decided to pack them all in boxes, hoping that someday he'd find the courage to face her again so he could give them to her personally.  But right now, he was simply not yet ready for any of that.  Someday soon he would be, though.  He really wanted to…because as much as he dared to deny it, deep down inside, he still misses Rachel.

=====

Rachel slid her svelte body between the crack of the two glass doors imprinted with big, bold letters of D&G.  Once in the conference room, she placed the folders she had been carrying on top of the long chrome table, occupying majority of the black and white chic room, and took a seat on one of the black suede chairs.  A few fashion savvy individuals, already there, greeted her in thick Italian; but Rachel merely returned the salutation with a polite smile.  She could already pick up on many of the Italian words and phrases, but she couldn't, for the life of her, condition her tongue to roll with Italian effortlessly.

"Grazie," she muttered in awkward Italian as she was handed a copy of the meeting's agenda.  Before she could even look through it, a light tap on her shoulder reeled her head sideways.

Grinning at her was Cameron, the only other American in the room, the one girl she found a friend in all these months living in a foreign country.

"Guess what?" Cameron bubbled with excitement.

"What?" Rachel smiled.

"What is the one thing you wish you can have this Christmas?"

Rachel tilted her head to the side, pretending to ponder the question.  "Hmm…a pay raise?"  She laughed lightly.

Cameron rolled her eyes.  "No.  The other thing.  That one out of context reply you gave me about three weeks ago when I asked if I could set you up on a date with my friend visiting from London."

Wrinkling her forehead in confused consideration, Rachel shook her head.  "Okay.  You got me.  I can't remember…"

"Your kids?" Cameron reminded.  "How you want to spend the holidays with them, remember?"

"Yeah…" Rachel nodded involuntarily.  "Because last year, they came here…but this year, they're spending the holidays with their father…"

"Right."  Cameron gave Rachel a tight-lipped smile before flooding into an even wider one.  "But all that's changing now…"

Rachel couldn't be more confused, so she just leaned back and arched one inquisitive brow.

Cameron's eyes twinkled as she licked her bottom lip in one momentary pause.  "Dolce and Gabbana needs to send someone to New York to take care of a few business there for three weeks and I recommended you and the bosses approved," she gushed in excitement, slapping a hand over her mouth when she realized the attention she had drawn to her and Rachel.  "Sorry…" she grinned sheepishly.

"What?" Rachel asked disbelievingly.  "When did this happen?"

"Last week."  Cameron made sure to whisper this time.  "They took my recommendation just yesterday, though…I'll be joining you for the last week, but isn't this great?  Your kids won't be able to come, but you can go to them!"  Her expression changed, noticing that Rachel was not as enthused as she pictured she would be.  "What?  What's wrong?  I thought you'd be excited to hear this…"

"Nothing…" Rachel shook her head blindly.  "It's just that it's Ross's turn with the kids and I can't…" Her voice trailed, unable to find the words to finish her sentence.

"Can't what, Rachel?" Cameron pressed, her face turning sour.  "They're your kids too.  And c'mon, they're staying with him all year long.  What's a day, really?  Is your husband some kind of a monster or something?"

"No, he's not."  Rachel chuckled nervously.  Something about referring to Ross as her husband gave her a certain level of unease.  They have been separated for so long that their marriage would no longer count as valid.  On the other hand, maybe it could…if they chose to work on it.  In every legal aspect of it, she and Ross were still married anyway.  They're separated, but they never really divorced…at least not yet.  She sighed, keeping her focus.  "No, he's not," she repeated.  "It's just that I don't want to take this time from him, you know?  The kids have been spending the holidays with me and this is actually the first time that they'll spend it with their father…so I don't want to be the monster to ruin that."

"That's not ruining anything."  Cameron ranted.  A divorced woman and a mother of three children herself, she knew what Rachel was going through.  She knew how tough and sticky such situation can be, but she strongly believed that as the one who gave birth to the children, the mother has the right to keep them.  "You still love him, don't you?" she asked from out of the blue.  That was the only explanation she could think of why Rachel was always giving way.

"What?"  Rachel protested.  "Now where did that come from?"

"From your face," Cameron pointed out.  "You don't have to deny it.  It's all over your face!  I see it everyday.  The way you give way to him.  The way you just decline every man who, mind you, and forgive me for saying this, are probably better than your sleazy husband."

"What?"  Rachel's jaw dropped.  "Ross is not sleazy," she grumbled under her breath, instinctively feeling the urge to defend him for being wrongly judged.

"This is exactly what I'm talking about!" Cameron spoke purposefully.  "Rachel, honey, you still defend him…"

"Well, he's not sleazy…" Rachel rambled stubbornly like a child.  "I'm sorry if your ex-husband beat you up, but Ross…he's not…like that…"

Cameron sighed and stared at Rachel sympathetically.  "Rachel," she touched her shoulder.  "I know we probably didn't have the exact same experience, but leave just a little something for yourself.  You know, just a teeny-tiny bit."  She gestured by holding her thumb and index finger so closed to each other.  "Believe me, I've been there.  Try not to get yourself any more hurt…"

=====

"A divorce lawyer?" Monica stared at the white card disbelievingly and shot a look at her older brother as she shifted Daniel, her 18-month old adopted child, in her arms, dancing around her soon-to-be-opened restaurant.

"Yes," Ross matter-of-factly replied, swiftly swiping a hand in time to snatch the business card that Monica snatched from him in the first place.  "It's about time, don't you think?"  He slid the card abruptly slid it into his breast pocket. 

Monica considered the question for a minute and then smirked.  "Eh…"  Her hesitation was far from ambiguous.  Sure, her brother has enough grounds for divorce, but it didn't mean that it's the best thing to do, did it?  Granted, Rachel cheated.  Granted, Ross couldn't find it in his heart to forgive her.  _"But what about James and Emma?"_ she wanted to scream out loud.  She wasn't particularly happy about what Rachel did.  Still, she really thought Ross and Rachel should work out their problems for the sake of their children.

"You don't seem convinced," Ross noted, idly toying with a swan napkin sitting on top of a plate setting in one of the tables.

"I'm not," came Monica's firm reply.  "And don't touch that!"  She slapped her brother's hand before he ruined the meticulously folded napkin.

Ross grimaced, rubbing his hand before he pulled one cushioned chair to sit on.  He rested his elbow on the table and accidentally pushed a plate nearly over the edge, earning him a displeased glare from his pedantic sister.

"Are you planning to ruin my restaurant before it even gets to be opened to the public?" Monica scolded.

"Geez, relax Mon."  Ross rolled his eyes.  "I am not going to ruin your restaurant.  But in all fairness, your restaurant is…" He looked around the restaurant's neutral interiors.  The whole place wasn't completely done, but he could tell the place would be a calming haven once all the finishing and furniture were put into place.  "Cozy and relaxing…" he offered.  "Just the way you've always wanted…"

Monica beamed proudly.  "Yeah…the way I've always wanted…"

Ross grinned, satisfied.  He had just skillfully pressed Monica's hot button, so he was sure Monica would now go on and on about her new business, dropping the subject of his plans for divorce once and for all.  He really didn't want to involve far more people than necessary.  In fact, he wasn't planning on telling anybody until the initial process of the divorce was underway.  If the business card didn't slip from his hand, Monica wouldn't have even known about it.

Unfortunately, Monica did, and she was not about to let it go easily.  Realizing what her brother had done, she went to a screeching halt and paused to look at her brother.  "I see what you're trying to do here…"  She shook a finger to his face.  "Nah-uh.  It's not going to work.  You have to tell me when you thought about this whole divorce thing."

Releasing a gusty sigh, Ross absentmindedly traced the pattern on the china in front of him.  "I told you, it's about time.  That's all there is to it."

Monica wrinkled her brow, taking a seat next to her brother.  "Is this because of your new girlfriend?"

"Carrie?" Ross arched a brow.  "No," he stated firmly for the record.  "Besides, I wouldn't go as far as referring to someone I've gone out with for only a couple of dates a girlfriend already…well, three, if we're already going to count the charity ball at the university next week."

"Well, that's how my sources referred to 'Daddy's new friend' when he went out on a date last night…"  Monica smirked.

"James and Emma?" Ross lifted an eyebrow, taking a sip of the glass of lemonade Monica served him when he came.  He had a good idea exactly how his sister would get the inside scoop about his dating life in less than twenty-four hours.

Monica nodded.  "Yeah, they called me, asking 'Aunt Monica, what is sex and will my Daddy have that tonight?'"

Ross nearly spat out the lemonade in his mouth.  "They asked that?"

"Well, Chunky-Monkey did…" Monica shrugged.  "Three things Ross:  James is growing up, he watches a lot of TV, and he is not stupid.  And Emma?  Just right behind him.  I'm just so glad that Daniel's still too young for me to start worrying about that…"

"What did you tell him?" 

"Nothing…I figured it's none of my business.  I told them to ask you, though…"

Ross vented out a sigh of relief.  "Thanks…you know, for caring."

"No problem."  Monica shrugged.  "I love your kids like they're my own…"  She smiled, but slowly her smile turned with a mischievous twinkle.  "But, speaking of your date…well, did you, you know, do it?"  She wiggled her brows.

"What?"  Ross instantly flicked to a defensive mode.

"Oh, c'mon!" Monica teased.  "Did you?"

"I can't believe I'm having this conversation with you."  Ross shook his head.  "But just so you know…no.  I- we didn't do it, okay?"  He sighed, his gaze resting on his hands steepled together in front of him.  Like a little boy, he went on.  "I couldn't do it.  I feel like I'm cheating on Rachel or something…and I shouldn't…"

"And hence came the idea for divorce…" came Monica's sarcastic comment, making Ross roll his eyes.  "Well, in a way, you _are_ still married to her…" She wryly pointed out.  "But going back to the topic, you did try to go for it," she added as a statement rather than a question.

"No."  Ross smiled, almost as if he was amused by it himself.  "I dropped her off at her apartment, walked her to her door like a gentleman…and…said goodbye…"

"That's it?"  Monica tilted her head to the side.  "No kiss or anything?"

Ross chuckled lightly, shaking his head.  "Unless a peck on the cheek counts…"

Monica giggled, very much relieved.  It really was no secret to anybody, even to Ross, who she wanted him to be with.  So every once in a while, she really liked to get a status report of her brother's dating life.  "Oh poor you…" She pulled a face with feigned sympathy.  "Are you sure you're ready to divorce Rachel?"

Ross rolled his eyes, grabbing his briefcase as he stood up to leave.  "I'm sure I want closure from her.  I know that much." He smiled good-naturedly, kissing his sister and his nephew goodbye.  "I don't know if I'll see you again, but if I don't…Don't forget to be there for James and Emma's program thingy in two days…"  He stopped short of the door before turning around to his sister again.  "By the way, what's the best way to remove an ink stain on the carpet?"

"You've been cleaning your house, huh?" Monica giggled a little bit.

"Yeah.  Just trying to get rid of the extra clutter."  Ross shrugged before flooding into a smile.  "When I'm not out on dates—and that's like, all the time—I clean."

Monica laughed out loud, but slowly her face grew more serious.  "Ross, I don't mean meddle with your life, but I think you should really consider a reconciliation with Rachel…for James and Emma?"

Ross looked away, unable to find any other words to say.  His mind was a jumble already, which was why he was taking this one step at a time, divorce being step number one to pull himself together.  He simply couldn't add to it anymore.  "Mon, I…I don't know…"

Monica smiled softly, sympathetically, having the slightest idea what her brother was going through.  "Just think about it…"

=====

James tiptoed and pressed his nose against the door's window to get a peek inside Emma's classroom.  It was his recess and he just wanted to stop by to see his sister to make sure that no one bullies her.  As her big brother, he felt like it was his duty to protect her, especially now that she's in the same school as he.

As if expecting him, Emma looked toward the door and waved at him when she saw him.  James smiled and waved back, pulling faces at her, making her giggle, before waving goodbye.  He knew how boring those preschool classes could be, so he always made sure Emma has something to laugh about.  Besides, this could be the only way he could bribe her so she wouldn't tell on his mischievous little games to his Daddy.  The more Emma thinks of him as the fun big brother, he's hoping and crossing his fingers, the less she'd tell on him.  It was about time, he thought, for Emma to stop her tell-all ways.

Pleased with himself, he held his lunchbox tightly and dashed to the lunchroom by the end of the hall.  He stopped by the blue entrance and carefully scanned the room, looking for a new girl to sit with.  He sighed.  He had just about sat with every girl in his class that nobody sitting in the lunchroom stood out in mind.  Well, maybe Nicole.  He always thought she looked kind of cute.

Taking a deep breath, he did a mental activation of his charms.  He walked across the room, towards her table, but right about halfway, he heard someone softly crying, so he stopped.  Looking around, he realized that the sniffling came from his classmate, Madison.  Like him, Madison's mommy doesn't live with him and his daddy.

Feeling the sympathy tugging at his heartstrings, he opted to forego lunch with Nicole.  Instead, he pulled the empty chair across from Madison and carefully set his lunchbox in front of him.  "Why are you crying?"

Madison didn't reply, but the boy next to him, Noah, did.  "Because his parents are divorcing."

"Divorcing?"  James arched a brow.

"My mommy said it's when a mommy and daddy don't live together anymore so they can marry other people," Noah nonchalantly replied, taking a big bite of his sandwich.  "Are your parents divorced?"

James shook his head.  "No…"

"But they don't live together, though…"

"Yeah, but that's because my Mommy works in Italy."

"Are you sure?"

James nodded slowly, suddenly frightened by the thought posed by the classmate.  He never thought much about his current living situation with his parents, but what if…

Noah shrugged.  "Madison's mommy doesn't live with his daddy either…Right, Madison?"

Madison nodded.  "For a long time now because they always fight.  Do your mommy and daddy fight, James?"

"No…" James shook his head.  "I told you, my Mommy's in Italy."

"How long?" Noah investigated.

"A long time…"  James replied hesitantly.  "But she's gonna come home, I know.  I always wish that she will…"

"Well, keep wishing."  Noah finished his sandwich.  "Because sometimes parents divorce and they don't tell the kids.  Madison's mommy and daddy didn't tell him that they're divorcing until yesterday.  So now, Madison has to move to a far, far place with his mommy after the divorce and his daddy is going to marry his girlfriend…" He shrugged his shoulders.  "And that's why he's crying…"

=====

The blackening New York skyline was dull in comparison to the snow-dusted streets down below as millions of tiny bright lights enwrapped themselves around every fenced tree, every lamppost, every street sign, and seemingly every trash bin in sight.  Bright headlights added to the brightness as impatient drivers waited for the much too slow traffic to move.  Thousands of people filled the sidewalks, all going about their own business, oblivious to the person walking next to them.  Some were carrying briefcases, some were carrying shopping bags decorated with the latest Christmas motif, and some were just strolling lazily, seemingly watching the world pass them by.  

New York City—the epitome of the always busy, always fast-moving world.  The scene below her feet was really not much different from the metropolis she had been waking up to in Milan, but something about New York City still rung out home.

Home.  The familiar.  The place you run to when the world threatens your sanity.  Carrying these thoughts in mind, Rachel left the window and threw herself down on the queen-sized bed in the middle of her hotel room.  She wasn't even sure why she agreed on taking this assignment.  Since her flight touched the ground, she had been nothing but edgy.  Sure, she wanted nothing more than to see her kids, but a part of her couldn't help but feel apprehensive.  If home was really the place you run to when the world threatens your sanity, then it sure was definitely not the case for her.

"You're going to be fine, Rach," she kept convincing herself, fighting so hard the urge to exploit the mini bar.  She was on the verge of doing it.  She was just holding back because she really wanted to drive up to see James and Emma later tonight.

Except, she was a little apprehensive about Ross…the prospect of seeing him, and he, her.  He knew nothing about this so she was worried about how he would react when they come face to face.  Two years with no attempt to communicate with her was certainly not a clear indication that his anger has faded, and the thought was certainly not very comforting.  Still, she wanted to see her kids.  They're hers too, aren't they?

With a worried sigh, Rachel glanced at the telephone.  There's only one way to find out…

=====

Limping a little, Ross struggled as he walked towards the house, carrying a briefcase, a small box of mail, a couple of bags of groceries, and a small plastic bag, he's carrying with his teeth, containing the pictures that he got developed. "James, Emma, I'm home!" he hollered as soon as he dropped the pictures down to the floor when he entered through the front door.

"Good," Emma commented, running in from the hallway.  "Then you can fix my hair."

"Fix your hair?" Ross echoed, furrowing his brow at his four-year-old.  "Princess, can you pick up that bag that Daddy dropped?  Please?"

"Daddy, I'm an angel for the play.  I have to look pretty," Emma stated as-a-matter-of-factly, holding out her angel costume, swaying from side to side before doing what she was told.  "Do you think I should put glitters in my hair?  It makes it shiny and I want my hair to shine…" she continued as she followed her father to the kitchen.  "You know, like an angel…"

Ross chuckled, shaking his head as he listened to his daughter.  Emma was too cute beyond words whenever she would get all worked up about something.  Her mouth just couldn't seem to find the stop button and her eyes would carry this glow that was just filled with much passion and determination.  People said that it was the Geller in her, but he couldn't be convinced.  He had always thought it was the Rachel in her.

After depositing everything in his hands onto the kitchen counter, he scooped his little darling in his arms and squeezed her tight.  "Hi," Ross greeted again. "You haven't given Daddy a kiss.  Did you know that?  You know what Daddy needs whenever he comes home from work tired and everything…"

Emma grinned sweetly and wrapped her arms tightly around her father's neck.  "Ooops, sorry…" she mumbled before planting a loud, firm kiss on her father's cheek.  "Okay, done.  Now, you fix my hair."

"You're one feisty little girl, aren't you?" Ross laughed, sitting his daughter on the table.  "So, how was your day?  Did you give Holly a hard time again?" he asked, smiling at the children's long-time nanny when she appeared in the kitchen to bid her farewell for the day.

"No…" Emma replied 'innocently,' waving at Holly.

"No, she didn't," Holly said.  "She just repeatedly took off the ponytail I fixed her hair in because, to quote her, 'It's not good enough!'"

"It's not!" Emma defended whiningly.  "I'm an angel and I—"

"Have to look pretty…" finished the long-time babysitter, smiling at the child.  "Bye Ems.  I'll see you tomorrow…and good luck to Daddy fixing your hair for the play…" She laughed.  "Bye, Dr. Geller."

"Thanks, Holly," Ross replied before the children's nanny left, finishing up the rather messy ponytail behind Emma's head.  "There…all done…"  He handed the girl a handheld mirror from the counter.  "Well, what do you think?  Do you like it?"

Emma groaned dramatically.  "Oh no!  Now I look like a fallen angel!"

"You think?" Ross laughed, silently wondering what exactly his daughter was picturing when she said 'fallen angel.'  Emma has, after all, a very overactive imagination.

Before her Daddy could even say another word, Emma shook off her ponytail and gestured for him to put her down to the floor.

"Hey," Ross protested.  "I worked hard on that…"

"But it's not good enough…"

Ross shook his head.  "What exactly do you have in mind that you want yourself to look like?"

"The angel from the fashion show in Italy," Emma replied with surety.  "Mommy worked with her and she looked pretty…"

"Oh…Italy…" Ross muttered, bringing Emma down to the floor.  It seemed to him that only Rachel would be able to help the girl at this point.  Unfortunately, Rachel wasn't there.  "I'll tell you what.  Draw it and we'll see what we can do…" he added with a wink.

"Really?" Emma's eyes widened, half-convinced.  "You can do that?"

"Maybe…" Ross smiled affectionately at the girl.  "Now go.  You don't want to be late for the play, do you?"

"No…"

"Then go…" he nudged her.  

Ross chuckled as she watched his daughter scurry out of the room.  "Emma, Emma, Emma…" he mumbled fondly.  He'd certainly miss the girl when she and James would go to Italy again to stay with Rachel come next summer.  

Before his mind wandered to the 'forbidden' territory called Rachel, he busied himself with other things.  With much curiosity, he began digging through the bag of pictures he got developed earlier that day.   All the cleaning he has been doing had led him to the discovery of the disposable cameras in many corners of the house.  He had no idea how long they've been in the drawers, but he took his chance and brought them to the photo store.  Surprisingly, they all turned out, he was told—or if they didn't, the photo place just overcharged him for all fifteen disposable cameras he brought to their store.

He was about to pull out the pictures from the first stack when the phone rang.  Without even looking, he slid the pictures back into the packet and tossed it back into the bag with all the rest.  He walked towards the counter, where the phone was, but before he could pick it up, his cellphone rang from his pocket.  He pulled it out immediately.  Seeing that it was Carrie calling, he picked it up instead of the landline.  "Hey…" he answered just in time the answering machine answered the other call.

The other caller didn't leave a message, so Ross just shrugged his shoulders.  _"Probably just a telemarketer,"_ he thought, picking up his briefcase on his way upstairs.

=====

"Hi, you have reached Ross, James, and Emma," the answering machine picked up, Ross, James, and Emma speaking respectively.  "Sorry…but we're not available right now," Emma's sweet little voice continued.  "So please just leave your name, your number, and a short message," James continued.  "And we'll call you right back," Ross finished.

"Machine…" Rachel blindly mumbled as she put the phone back to the cradle, not bothering to leave a message.  She sighed.  "There goes nothing…"

Should she call back or should she wait until tomorrow?  She really didn't know, so she just fluffed the pillows and threw her head back down.  She was still adjusting to her new time zone anyway.  Maybe she should just wait, she tried to convince herself.

"Yeah…tomorrow might be better…" she mumbled softly.  She closed her eyes and tossed and turned…and tossed and turned.  Irritated after a few more minutes of tossing and turning, she rolled onto her stomach and pulled out the blindfold that she saw in the nightstand drawer.  She put it on, adjusting the elastic band behind her head before hitting the pillows once more.  All she had to do was to sleep this through.  First thing in the morning, she'd call Ross and arrange to see her kids in the afternoon.

"That's the plan…"  She yelled out loud, convincing herself.  But after another fifteen more tedious minutes of tossing and turning, she finally gave up and pushed herself up into a sitting position, pulling down her blindfold.  "Okay, I have to do something right now…" she grunted, grabbing her coat before fleeing out of the room.

=====

"I'm stubborn.  I believe…"

James's eyes flung open when he heard a loud knock outside his door.

"James, why is your door locked?  Open up!"

"Daddy!" James gasped, running around in circles in panic.  "Why didn't you tell me that he's coming?" he scolded his little sister.

"You didn't ask!" Emma retorted, giggling a little.  "James is gonna get busted…" she teased playfully.

James glared at his younger sister and hurriedly covered the camera with a pillowcase before he carried the tripod it was set upon next to his coat rack.  "If you say one word," he warned Emma, pointing a finger at her.

"Don't point your finger at me!" Emma snapped back haughtily, hands on hips as she stood up.

James rolled his eyes, sticking out his tongue at his sister.  "Hey, you're in on this as much as I am…"

"James?" His father called from outside his door again, his knocks becoming louder.

After another warning glare at the tell-all sister, James opened the door.  "Hi, Dad!" he greeted cheerfully with an ecstatic hand wave.

"What have you been doing?" Ross asked suspiciously, glancing around the boy's bedroom.  Whenever James would take a long time to answer his door, usually the boy was up to something.  Smarter and taller, James might have become, but mischief was still up his sleeves.

"Nothing…" James shrugged, casually walking over to his sister to put a hand on her mouth.  "Just hanging out with Emma…"

"Oh," Ross nodded.  "Just hanging out, huh?"

"Yup!" James gave out an emphatic nod.  "We need to bond…me and my sister."

"Let me go!" Emma wriggled free from her brother's grasp, and when she freed herself she ran straight to their father.  "Daddy," she said in a whisper, tugging at Ross's pantleg to get his attention.  She made him go down so she could whisper a 'secret' to him—much to James' chagrin.

Smiling, Ross listened to his daughter as she spilled out James' secret.  "What's a pocket-tary?" he asked her while Emma continued on with her story.

"It's a _documentary_!" James grumbled, hearing this, glaring at Emma.  She did it again: busted his plans and put him on the limb.

"Ha!" Ross mumbled with amusement in his voice as he looked at the direction that Emma pointed to.  He shook his head at his mischievous son, looking at him straight in the eyes before retrieving his video camera from behind the pillowcase.  "Can't say I'm too happy about this, James," he spoke in a strict voice, clearly defining his authority.  "But I'll let this go this one time…"

James released a very long relieved sigh.  "Ah, thank you!" he muttered breathlessly.

Ross chuckled a little, definitely glad that the boy was finally warming up to him again.  For a while, James had acted rather cold towards him, talking to him only when asked, looking at him only when called.  He knew James still blames him for Rachel leaving, but at least now James was finally talking to him again.

Shaking his head, Ross walked towards his son and put a hand on his shoulder.  "I guess you should start getting ready then.  Which one are you again?  The shepherd boy?"

"No," James replied.  "I'm one of the three kings…"

Ross smiled, planting a kiss on James's head only to land his lips on the boy's rather crunchy hair.  "Did you use my gel on your hair?"

James looked up at his father and slowly broke into a guilty grin, revealing his missing two front teeth.

"You really want to be called Little Ross, don't you?" Ross joked, smiling at the miniature version of him.

James scrunched up his face.  "I'm not Little Ross…"

"Yes you are!" Emma yelled from behind, jumping up and down her brother's bed.

"I'm not!"

"You are!"

"I'm not!" James stuck out a tongue at his little sister.

"Okay, this could go on forever…" Ross laughed, carrying Emma with him as he left the room.  "James, go get ready.  We're leaving in 45 minutes," he told the boy as he was closing the door.

"Daddy?" James stopped his father.

"Yeah?" Ross pushed the door a crack wider.

James sighed.  Thoughtful.  Hesitant.  "Do you think my wish will ever come true?"

Ross was pensive for a moment, carefully deliberating the boy's question.  He had a gut feeling that James' wish had something to do with Rachel.  Unfortunately, it was that one wondering that he had no sure answers for.  "Well…I guess it depends on what you're wishing for…"  He took the safer route, not wanting to disappoint his son.

"I see…"  James' face fell.  His Daddy knew what his wish was and his reply told him that one wish would not be granted him.  Somehow, the thought just pushed the fact back to his mind that he's going to end up a lot like Madison, and this scared him.  _Mommy really needs to come home soon…_

Ross pressed his lips together, suddenly feeling that he was the world's cruelest parent.  He hated to see James like this, but what could he do?  He really didn't know anymore.  As much as he wanted to give everything to his children, he was very doubtful that he and Rachel could still make it as a couple.  In the end, it just might do them more harm than good.  He had run this drill in his head over and over, but every time it always boils to one thing: if he and Rachel got back together for the sake of their kids, it just might be the worst mistake they would ever make—worse than Rachel sleeping with Hugh or him pushing Rachel away as he wallowed in self-pity.  He and Rachel have a lot of issues to work on…so many that he couldn't just go for it and risk James and Emma's feelings.  He loves them too much to hurt them.

Ross sighed and then cleared his throat, worried by his son's silence.  "James, you okay son?"

James drew in a deep breath and slowly lifted his face.  "Yeah…" he nodded slowly.  Expressionlessly, he walked towards the door.  "I'm gonna change…" he muttered in a flat tone.  Without another word, he closed the door to his father's face, leaving Ross on the other side of the door, wondering if he should talk to the boy or to simply let it go again this time…

=====

"There's a wolf out there!" Emma whiningly pointed out as she stared out the narrow glass window next to the front door.

"Princess, I'm telling you, there's nothing there," Ross patiently explained as he tied a white silk ribbon around Emma's ponytail.  "Okay, don't mess with it again," he warned in a mock-stern voice when Emma, once again, brought a hand to her hair.

"But, Daddy, there is!" Emma insisted.  "Do you see that white thing next to the tree?"

Ross peered outside the window, to where Emma was pointing.  "Sweetie, that's just a pile of snow."

"It's not!" Emma's eyes widened in one stubborn insistence.

Knowing that Emma wouldn't quit until she touched the pile of snow herself, Ross quickly grabbed his coat and wrapped it around his daughter before took her outside.  "Touch it," he instructed patiently, pointing to the pile of snow the girl was pointing to from inside the house.

"I don't wanna…"  Emma's voice quivered.  "I'm scared…"

Ross chuckled.  "Ems, it's not a wolf.  There's no wolf around here…" Ross explained patiently, while Emma listened.  "Sweetie, do you even know what a wolf is?"

Slowly, Emma shook her head, her lips upturned in a pouty-lipped smile.  "No…but my friend Irene's sister said that it lives in the snow…just not in places where there are lots of houses around…like…like our house…"

Ross rolled his eyes, squeezing and shaking Emma as he carried her back to the house.   "Little girl, I don't know what to do with you anymore…"

Emma giggled, enjoying her little playful moment.  "Daddy, can't breathe…"  She made fake gagging faces, earning her a round of tickling from her father.

"Okay, angel.  Time for Daddy to finish getting ready for your show."  Ross put his daughter down on the floor, shutting the door closed.

"Can I put your tie on you?" Emma's eyes widened with sheer excitement.

"Sure," Ross mumbled tentatively, smiling down at his child.  "It's going to take forever to untangle your way of tying it, but sure.  Why not?"  He laughed, good-naturedly patting the girl on the cheek.  "Now, you stay here and wait while Daddy gets his tie upstairs, okay?"

Obediently, Emma nodded.

"Daddy?"

"Yeah?"  Ross turned around when he reached the fifth step.

"Are you gonna make Carrie my new mommy?"

"Says who?" Ross arched an inquisitive brow.

"James…" Emma replied, grimacing.

"Huh?  James…" Ross mumbled, rubbing his chin.  "What else did James say?"

"That Mommy's not coming home because you have a girlfriend…"  Emma shook her head.  "Oh, never mind.  I said that." She grinned guiltily, putting a finger over her lips.

Ross laughed.  Somehow, he had a feeling that he needed to clear a few things up with his children…especially matters regarding Carrie.  "Well…I'll tell you what.  We'll talk about it in the car.  You, me, and James are going to have a very long talk about Carrie later.  Is that a deal?"

Emma gave her father a thumbs-up and beamed.  "Deal."

With a smile, Ross vanished up the staircase.  

Emma, bored already, went to sit on the steps and idly smoothed her long white dress.  She stared outside through the narrow window again.  Finding nothing that caught her interest this time, she stifled a long yawn.  "Daddy," she called over, yelling at the top of her lungs.  "Can Starly really make wishes come true?"

"No," James grumbled sulkily as he bounded down the stairs, holding a crown and royal blue cape.

"You look good, James," Emma offered kindly, looking down at her own costume as she ran a quick mental comparison in her head, secretly hoping that she'd get a compliment as well.

She didn't.  James was in too rotten of a mood to even pay attention to anything.  Sullen, he went straight to the coat closet and retrieved his coat.  Once he put it on, he took a seat at the very bottom of the staircase next to his little sister, resting his elbows to his knees, his face sinking deep into his hands.  "I don't want to play one of that stupid kings anymore.  I just want to stay at home…"

"You do?" Emma's face crumpled.

"I'm the only one who doesn't have a Mommy there…" James complained.

Thoughtful for a moment, Emma scratched her head.  "Your friend Madison don't have a Mommy…She lives in a different place."

"Yeah," James snorted.  "That's because his parents are divorcing."  Emma might not see it just yet, but he could.  The signs, the comparisons to his classmates whose parents were divorced…they were all there already, ever so consistent with his life, his parents' life.  For two days, he didn't let this bother him, but now, he couldn't do it anymore.  So really, if his wish didn't come true tonight, for sure, first thing in the morning he would be like Madison.  

James shook his head.  "Emma, don't you get it?  His mommy lives in a different place.  Mommy lives in a different place, too.  His daddy has a girlfriend.  Daddy has a girlfriend too.  It's happening to us too.  Don't you see it?"

Confused, Emma wrinkled her face.  "What's divorce?"

James rolled his eyes.  "Oh, stop asking.  Even if I tell you, you won't understand anyway.  You're just going to be happy all the time and not even care."

"Why?  Do you want me to feel sad?"

James released his frustration in one deep sigh.  "Just…shush," he snapped.  After another moment, he stood up, about ready make his way upstairs.  "I'm not gonna go…Besides, I don't like Mrs. Butler anyway," he added, suddenly remembering the tall, red-haired program coordinator.  "She's old and she always looks mad."

A puzzled frown crossed his little sister's face.  Emma thought for a moment, but when her big brother said that he's not going, it almost became a no-brainer to her.  "Okay…if you're not going, then I'm not going too…"  She tugged on her ponytail and soft honey curls came tumbling down below her shoulders.

"Whatever…" James merely shrugged.

"Wait!" Emma called to her brother.  "James, do you think there are polar bears outside?  My friend Irene's sister said that they live in the snow…"

"No," James knowingly replied.  "They live in the snow, but not here."

"Then what is that that moved outside?" Emma asked innocently, pointing an unseen shadow in the dark.  "Do you think it's a ghost?"

"Emma!" James was exasperated from his sister's ridiculousness.  "There are no polar bears out there and there is definitely no ghost out there."

"But…"

Before his sister could even finish her sentence, James jumped to the bottom step, tripping a little before he made his way towards the door.  Putting his hand on the knob, he looked straight at his sister, and in a big-brotherly fashion, explained.  "There are no polar bears or ghosts out there.  See!"  In one sweeping manner, he pulled the door opened and gasped at the sight that welcomed him.  "Mommy?"

"Rachel?"  Ross asked at the same time, stopping dead on his tracks as he made his way downstairs.

One sheepish "hello" was all it took and the room was immediately swept into a deafening oblivion of silence.

_To be continued…_


	11. Wishes 10

A/N: Thank you so much for taking time to reply to the last nine chapters.  It means so much to me.  Anyway, here's the next part.  Hope you enjoy!

**Wishes**

ten

=====

"Hello…"

Ross's muscles tensed when he saw Rachel, but when he heard her voice, a million and one ghosts of his past visited him, freezing him cold on the spot.  The door was open, and a frosty gust of wind flew in from behind her, carrying her familiar sweet scent to his nostrils.  It was torture, and soon he found himself fighting for control.  Control over what, he didn't know.  It was a combination of different things, different emotions, as both familiar and unfamiliar swept over him like the wintry wind that suddenly seemed to start whirling about him.  

Rachel found herself holding her breath as the air around her became denser…so thick that it was hard to breathe.  She fought for words, but none came out except for her one hello that even came out as a tweak rather than a real greeting.  She didn't mean to show up this way, to shock everybody this way, without so much as a warning.  She had been just driving around in her rental car and all of a sudden she was standing outside the door of the house she once called home.  She had every intention of leaving, though, realizing how unprepared she was to show her face so unexpectedly like this.  But then, James opened the door, and she froze on the spot as Ross did.

"Mommy?"  Finally, James broke the unnerving silence.  He stared at his mother almost in disbelief, but the moment it sunk in to him that this was real, that his mother was actually there, he slowly broke into a blissful grin.  "Mommy!" he exclaimed, more excitedly this time, as he threw his arms around her legs, pressing his cheek close to her in sheer contentment.  His wish came true and that was all he cared about.

Rachel stepped back for balance when her son threw himself at her.  Though restrained, she chuckled as she ran a hand down the boy's hair, hugging him close, severing the very stressful eye contact with Ross.  "Hi, Jamesy…"  She forced a note of enthusiasm in her voice and smiled down at the child.  Her voice was shaky somewhat, but she mustered all her courage, and, for the moment, pretended not to notice Ross' existence in the room.  She'd deal with him later, but for now, it's just about her and her children.

"Emma, is that you?" Rachel smiled at her youngest, holding out her arm to her.

A little more reserved than her brother, Emma held back for a moment, but when she, like her brother, finally let this all sink into her, she smiled and eagerly went into her mother's arms giggling.  "Yes, it's me!"

Rachel got down to her knees so she could take a better look at her children.  She hadn't seen them for three months, yet somehow it felt a whole lot longer.  "Oh, look at you two!  You've both have grown so big…"

Taller.  James was definitely taller and less rounded than when she last saw him.  Nevertheless, his features remained the younger image of his father if not more so.  His soft dark eyes still carried the same warm twinkle, and his smile was still the kind that tugged at her heartstrings.  "You've been dieting James?" she joked, playfully poking the boy's stomach that seemed a little flatter than before.

"No…"  James replied with a mock-pout on his lips.  "But I lost two teeth," he volunteered almost too proudly, pointing to the two missing teeth in front.  "One when I was playing soccer and the other when I bit on a candy and it just came off."

"I didn't…" Emma chimed in to get her mother's attention.  "See?"  She flashed her perfect and still intact set of milk teeth.  "Because I brush my teeth every night."

"I do too!" James said defensively.

"When Daddy go-ed with Carrie on a date, you didn't…"  Emma pointed out.

Rachel smiled weakly, hearing this, somehow downed by the small bit of information she just learned from her daughter.  She shook off the feeling almost immediately, and, instead of searching Ross's face for confirmation as she suddenly had the itching to do, she kept her focus on her children.  Ross's dating life is none of her concern anymore.  So really, it shouldn't bother her that he's dating again.  He is, after all, free to do that if he wants to.  They're only a few signatures away from divorce anyway.

Sighing, she forced a bigger smile, a real smile, at her daughter.  "And look at my Emma…" she crooned as if she were still talking to a baby rather than a four-year-old.  She took a moment and just looked at her baby girl, into her clear blue eyes that mirrored her own.  She touched the girl's chubby cheeks, brushing a finger down the slight dimple on Emma's left cheek before letting her fingers glide down Emma's soft honey locks that fell a little below her shoulders.  She was looking at the little version of her, but when Emma smiled that half-grin of hers, she thought she could still see a little bit of Ross in her.  She had always thought Emma got her father's smile.  Not a lot of people might agree, but she knew Ross's smile so well to recognize it when she sees it.

Rachel cleared her throat, forcing herself to snap out of this 'Ross zone.'  She wished none of her children got a tiniest bit of resemblance to him.  This way, she wouldn't have to see him even when she's not looking at him.

"Well," Rachel began again as soon as she found her words.  "What can I say?  You're a Little Me."  She smiled at her daughter affectionately.

"I know…" Emma replied softly, blushing a little.  "Daddy said I am beautiful like you…"  She paused for a second and then quickly added, "Not just pretty…because pretty can be for anybody.  But beautiful…that's just for special people…like you and me."

Rachel smiled, suddenly feeling her cheeks blushing and her heart racing a million beats per minute.  She knew better than to take Emma's words seriously.  Kids her age, they tend to elaborate, add extra bit of information.  Ross could have said one thing, but the girl could have just interpreted it as another.  Still, as much as she hated to admit it, something about the way Emma specifically mentioned, "Daddy said…," followed by all other sweet things the girl added…Something about them flattered her, leaving her stomach in a tickled muddle as butterflies fluttered about it.

A second later, however, Ross ruined it for her.  "If we don't leave now, you kids are going to be late for the program," He finally spoke.  His tone was flat that Rachel didn't even have to look up at him to know his current sentiments towards her.  

Finishing the remaining steps down to the floor, Ross adjusted his tie and looked at James and Emma levelly.  "So, you guys ready?"  He spoke with a little bit more excitement this time, nevertheless, still not addressing Rachel.  What did she expect, a warm welcome from him?  She showed up so unexpectedly without even the courtesy of even just a brief phone call to let him know that she's coming.

"Daddy, can Mommy come?"  James took a step next to his mother, clutching her hand firmly.

Ross pressed his lips together, feeling a wave of nervousness sweeping over him again.  This was what he was afraid of.  If he said no, he would be the bad guy in James' eyes again; but if he said yes, who knew what kind of night they would all have?  "Well…"  He began, unconsciously running a finger down his brow as if wiping an imaginary sweat off of it.  "We only have five tickets here…and…they're all taken…" he finished slowly, carefully studying James' face.

"But can't you do your trick and move things around?"  James was hopeful.

"You know, I would, but…"

"You know what, James?"  Rachel interrupted.  "I'm just gonna go."  She was definitely not the one to force herself where she wasn't wanted.  "I…I have to get up early for a work meeting anyway.  So, what do you say, I'll just come back again to see you and Emma?  Maybe tomorrow…if that's okay with your father."  For the first time in the night, she looked at Ross deliberately, her eyes disdainful.

_Now, she's the one to get angry?_ Ross thought, somewhat annoyed.  He was going to let this go, but on a second thought, maybe he shouldn't.  "Rachel, can I…can I talk to you in private?"

Before Rachel could even reply, Ross grabbed her arm tightly and pulled her out in the cold covered porch, shutting the door after them.  "What do you think you're doing?"  He demanded, taking a step away from her, distancing himself.

Rachel blinked her eyes several times, trying to process Ross' question.  She already said she was going to leave.  What more did he want?  "What?  What exactly did I do?"

"This."  Ross pointed out, pacing the porch, running a nervous hand down the back of his head.  "You showing up here with no phone call or any kind of warning."  He stopped to glare at Rachel.  "Or should I remind you that we agreed that I'm keeping the kids until the summer."

If the agreement he was talking to was the one that they indirectly agreed upon through messages through her mother, who acted as the middle person between them so they could have a fair share of their kids, then, yes, they agreed on it.  But that's beside the point.  "Okay, for the record, I did try to call, but no one answered the phone."

"And that's why the answering machine was invented."  Ross couldn't get any more sarcastic.

"Okay, what is this?  Are you worried that I'm just going to swoop in here and take the kids from you?"  Rachel shook her head.  "Ross, I am _not_ taking them away from you.  I just came to see them…because last that I checked, they're _my_ children too!"  Her voice rose a notch higher, but, as she reckoned, he was the one who started it.

"Then maybe you should have thought about that before you jumped into bed with someone else!" Ross hissed.  He surprised himself with his words, but he said it and there was no taking it back.

Rachel looked away, both stunned and hurt by his words.  After a moment, she realized that it wasn't even what he said that hurt, but how he said it, how his eyes blazed at her, almost condemning her.  She took a sharp breath, halting her tears before they could even begin.  She didn't want to cry in front of him anymore.  "Are you happy now?" she asked scornfully—calm, but nonetheless, scornful.  "It just feels so good to say that, doesn't it?"

Ross looked down the painted wooden floorboards, his tongue tied in a million knots with the realization of how emotional he had gotten and how he should never have acted on those emotions.  He was in the wrong; he knew that.  But, the damage was already far beyond repair, so he just kept quiet.

It was hard to keep her emotions intact on the surface while her emotions were wrenching deep inside.  Rachel wanted to scream—scream loud and hard to his face.  Yet, at the same time, she wanted to beg him to hear her out, to plead her case one more time.  She did neither.  Neither of those would do them good anyhow.  

They're over.  She had drilled this in her head over and over for two years, but it was only now that the realization hit her straight and hard…harder than those times that it hit her before.  All she had to do was look into his eyes, and immediately she saw his continuous pain, his bitterness.  

He couldn't forgive her.  He just might never forgive her.  

The implication was irrefutable.  Without that forgiveness, nothing could—nothing would—exist between them.  Not their marriage, and perhaps not even friendship. It saddened her to think of this, but it wasn't like there was something she could do about it.  She had no control over fate, and she definitely had no control over Ross' feelings or emotions.

"Have you…"  After a long moment, Rachel found herself saying, "have you contacted a…a divorce lawyer?"  It was the one thing left to do, the one inevitable thing needed to be said.  Rachel wasn't sure if she could actually finish through this conversation without breaking, so she kept her back to him, wrapping her arms tightly around her for much-needed restraint.

Without tearing his gaze off the floorboard, for a moment, Ross blinked back several times, as if taking in the weight of the reality they're facing.  Finally, after what seemed like forever, he slowly and carefully breathed out his reply.  "Yes."

That was all she needed to hear.  Braving her tears, Rachel forced a smile on her lips and slowly turned on her heel to face him.

Their eyes met only for a moment, but that one split-second spoke more than enough of what they needed to know—mostly, confirmation of had been quietly discussed between them.  There was nothing left to say…only things left to do.

=====

James sniffed and immediately wiped the fallen tear from his eye.  Wistfully, he glanced out the car window and pressed his nose up against it, sending a clear message to his father in the driver seat that he didn't want to talk to him.  Why would he want to talk to someone who made his Mommy go away?  He wanted her to be there, but now she wouldn't be…because of his father.

"James…" Ross tried to coax his son as he drove to the auditorium.  "I'm sorry, okay?"  He paused, struggling with words.  He was in the wrong; he knew that.  Still, it wasn't like there was still something that he could do.  He sighed and looked regretfully at his son.  He ruined the boy's night and he couldn't feel worse about it.  "Hey buddy, how about I call Mommy tonight and arrange for you and her to spend the entire day tomorrow together.  What do you say?"

No response.

"Okay…" Ross muttered tentatively under his breath.

"Can I spend the day with Mommy too?" Emma asked from the backseat.

Ross looked up at his rearview mirror and smiled at his daughter.  The girl was obviously still oblivious to what's happening between him and Rachel.  But then again, she had been, still is, too young to give ample consideration to this kind of matter…unlike James.  James could somehow understand their situation now, and Ross was afraid that the boy would have a hard time adjusting again much like he did two years ago.  Thinking about this now just made him realize how he should never have waited this long to file for divorce.  He didn't know why he waited, really.  It wasn't like he was still willing to give his marriage another shot.

"We're here!"  Emma announced excitedly, squirming out of her car seat when her father pulled up at the empty parking space across from the auditorium.

Ross chuckled lightly, looking over his shoulders.  "Princess, you can wriggle all you want, but you won't be able to get out of there until I free you up.  You're just going to wrinkle your nice dress."

Emma looked at her father in the semi-darkness, her brows creased.  "That's not fair…and don't call me princess.  I'm an angel tonight.  _Angel_."

Ross smiled and then released another sigh as he looked at his son.  "You're going to be okay, James?"

"What's wrong with James, Daddy?"  Emma asked innocently.  "Is he mad at you?"  She tilted her head to catch a better glimpse of her brother's head in front.  "James, you're supposed to answer when Daddy asks you…"

"It's okay, Emma," Ross assured his daughter without really taking his eyes off her brother.  "James, I know you're mad at me, but—"

"Are you going to divorce Mommy?"

As much as it surprised him, James' question didn't really come as a shock to him.  It was almost as if he already expected it.  "Well…"  he delayed his answer, looking back and forth between his two children, silently wondering if this was really the right time to tell them.

"Are you?"  James pressed again.  Even in the dark, Ross could clearly see the fear in the boy's eyes, making it harder for him to say what he was going to say.  Still, the truth had to come out at some point…

"You know what?  Why don't we just go in now and we'll talk about this later, okay?"  He was dodging the question, but then he didn't want ruin the night any further.  He got out of the car, taking the fastest escape route and conversation ender.  He freed Emma from her carseat in the back and lifted her out of the car.  Before he could put her down to the ground, however, James got out of the car and started running away.

James ran towards the building, but still, there was this two-way lane to cross where a few crazy drivers were still speeding, Ross noticed, despite the fact that it was a parking lot.  Ross never knew what it felt like to have a sudden stroke, but now, he thought he knew.

"James!"  He called after his son, slamming the doors with his hip and quickly grabbing James' coat when he noticed it lying down on the seat.  The boy didn't need it inside the building, but it was a very cold night and he thought James might need it afterwards.

"James!"  He called again the minute he stepped in the crowded lounge area.  "Okay, this is not fair," he grumbled under his breath, carrying Emma while he limped his way in through the crowd.  James could easily outrun him, so he was afraid that his son would have run miles before he could get caught up to him.

After a few more steps, Ross spotted his sister—or rather, she spotted him.  "What happened?" greeted Monica.  "Why are you all exhausted and panting?"

"Did you see James come in?" Ross asked worriedly, scanning the many faces in the crowd.

"Backstage."  Monica pointed to the double doors leading to the staging area.  "Phoebe walked him to the door."  Wrinkling her brow, she shook her head.  "What happened with you two?  Why was he upset?"

"Rachel," Ross said simply.  

"Yeah.  Mommy came, Aunt Monica," Emma giddily interrupted as she wriggled free from her father's grasp.  "Where's Daniel?"  she asked about her little cousin immediately.  She always had.  She was really fond of her little cousin that she'd look for him every time she'd see her auntie.

"Right there with Uncle Chandler, sweetie," Monica answered, pointing to her husband standing by the auditorium entrance with her son, thinking it best to discussed the matter with her brother without Emma around.

"So, Rachel came?"  Monica asked the moment Emma was out of hearing distance.

"Yeah…" Ross mumbled wryly.  "She came earlier this evening and…"

"Let me guess…you let your bitterness get the better of you and drove her away…" Monica finished for her brother, reading the guilt across his face before he could even voice it out loud.

Ross sighed.  "I guess you could say that…"

"Ross!"  Monica shook her head, her voice reproving.

"What am I supposed to do?" Ross came back defensively.  "She just showed up at my doorstep unannounced.  I wasn't expecting her.  Maybe if she called first I would have been more…"

"More what, Ross?  Accommodating?"

Ross shook his head.  "No…but…"  He exhaled a long frustrated sigh. "I would have been more prepared…that's all.  Now, James hates me.  My son hates me again because he thinks I made Rachel go away."

"Well, you sort of did…"  Monica wryly smirked.

Ross rolled his eyes.  "Look…" he trailed, thinking it best not to explain himself right now.  "I…I'm just gonna go talk to my son right now…"

=====

"I'm stubborn.  I believe."  James muttered under his breath as his grip tightened around Starly, slowly treading across the busy backstage.  He sighed, casting a quick glance at the wall clock above the double doors behind him: 7:10.  He was not concerned so much about when the program would begin or when he'd be cued in to enter the stage.  What he really wanted to know was how much time before the clock strikes twelve.  Until that time, he strongly believed that his wish could still come true.   His Mommy did come, didn't she?  Now, he only has to find her and urge her to come home.  Then maybe his parents wouldn't have to divorce.

"I'm stubborn.  I believe," he mumbled, reminding himself of his wish once more.  He looked around the room, trying to figure out a way to go about the adventure he's brewing up in his mind.

One props lady approached him, interrupting his thoughts.  "James, you're here.  Where's your sister?"

"Still outside with my Dad."  James gestured towards the door.

The props lady handed him a green nametag.  "Here.  Take this to Mrs. Butler and she'll tell you what to do."  She started walking away, but then stopped to give him a last minute reminder.  "Don't forget to call your sister back here.  The program starts in twenty minutes."

"Okay…" James mumbled blindly.  He began walking towards the tall red-haired middle-aged woman, otherwise known as Mrs. Butler.  Stern-faced and scary-looking.  Despite her simple and sweet all-pink outfit, she still gave James the creeps that just made him cringe at the sight of her.  She was handing out some cards to the other children in the room.  Then, someone called her name and she took a step back, revealing to her right the portal that James thought could finally help him accomplish his plan.

Before anyone could see him, James hid behind a fake tree, observing his surroundings before making any move.  To his left, he could see his father poking his head between the double doors, presumably looking for him.  To his right, Mrs. Butler was gathering the cast, checking them off with the list clamped to her clipboard, calling their names one by one.  Then, there were the catering people providing the refreshments backstage.  They kept coming in and out through that door behind Mrs. Butler, and with them were aluminum food carts that they empty on the long table in the leftmost corner of the room.

Suddenly, an idea struck him in a flash when an empty food cart stopped before him.  Without giving it any more thought, he climbed into it.  "Ouch," he whispered, touching his hands to the aluminum walls.  Then, suddenly, out of seemingly nowhere, another food cart slammed behind the one he's on, enclosing him in darkness as he felt the wheels rolling under him.  Thinking that his plan was finally working, he just sat there in silence, not once making a single noise.  He'd get out once he's out of the building.

The carts came into a jerky stop, followed by a loud clicking of two metals.  The sound of a humming engine told James that he was finally outside.  "Brrrr…it's cold tonight," said one man before he gave the cart another painful jerk—painful to James that is.  The vibration it subjected him under was certainly not kid-friendly, he thought.  

Finally, when the voices hushed down, indicating that the coast was clear for him to make his escape, James pushed the cart a crack and a cold gust of wind filled the little space he's in, making him shiver.  He tried to get a good peek outside, but it was too dark for him to see anything.  So, he just leaned back and prepared to kick the cart that locked him in.

One push and the cart behind rattled, but never rolled backwards.  James drew in a deep breath, increasingly becoming scared now.  Somehow, he had a very strong feeling that he was trapped inside.  

Determined not to cry, he bit his bottom lip and slid his hands out the small opening between the two closed up carts.  There were hard metal strips on both sides and something about the thickness of the strips told him that there was no way out for him anymore.

"Open please…"  He began to whimper.  Unfortunately, there was no one around to hear him.  The delivery truck was closed up and the only two people that could possibly help him were sitting out in front in a completely separate compartment, both listening to music so loud to even hear anything else as they drove away.

"HELP!"  James began calling louder, kicking the cart behind him to create even more noise.  He did this for several minutes but all to no avail.  Finally, he gave up, leaning back on the smooth wall of the food cart as he began to cry.  "Mommy…" he whimpered as he started to feel the first chill of the cold environment he was in.  It wasn't a freezer, but it certainly didn't have a heater either to raise its temperature higher than the freezing temperature outside.

"Mommy…Daddy…"  James cried softly.  His breath came in short gasps, both from crying and the cold temperature.  With each passing minute, it was getting worse.  Closing his eyes with the intention of sleeping this out, he uttered a simple wish: that when he woke up, he'd finally be home soon.  He knew his Daddy and even his Mommy would scold him for this.  But then again, he had no intentions of pulling this stunt again…_if_ he'd ever get the second chance to pull this stunt again…

=====

"What do you mean you didn't see him come in?"  Ross's clarified with the red-haired program coordinator.

Mrs. Butler looked down on her list and shook her head.  "No.  I'm sorry Mr. Geller.  I've been checking off the children as they come in, and so far, I haven't seen James…Besides, once they're here, we don't let them go running off elsewhere anymore.  As you can see, all doors are guarded…"  She gestured to each of the doorway.

Blood drained from Ross's face and he began to pace back and forth as he surveyed the staging area.  There were three possible escape routes in the room: one was through the double doors leading to the auditorium, another one was through the steel doors going to the back parking lot, and the other was through the door leading to a hallway.  All three portals were heavily guarded, though, so it was almost impossible for a seven-year-old boy to run off without being stopped by the dress-coded volunteer guards.  

Ross stuffed his hands in his pockets.  "So you really didn't see him come in?" he pressed again, his tone higher that the program coordinator jumped back, startled.

Seeing that her brother was starting to lose his cool, Monica quickly cut in the middle.  "Mrs. Butler, right?"  She verified the name, reading the pink nametag hanging around the woman's neck.  "Yeah, my nephew.  He's about this tall…dark hair…dark eyes…kind of chubby…"  She described, adding the appropriate hand gestures to aid her descriptions.  "He looks very much like my brother here…only younger…"

Mrs. Butler smiled weakly.  "I think we all know who James is…I, personally, wouldn't forget the boy's face because my experience with him has been…"  She trailed, trying to find the right word to sum up her two weeks of evening practices with the cast…her experience with James in a particular.  "Interesting…" she finished with a shrug.

In other words, James gave her a hard time—the woman's message translated in Monica's head, and, judging from the small smile that spread on Ross's lips, his head too.

"Oh, I don't mean in a bad way…" Mrs. Butler quickly added, not wanting to offend the seemingly already upset parent.  "He just has his own opinions about certain matters…and very strong ones at that…"

"Yes, he's very stubborn," Monica agreed, glancing at her brother.

"And he always carries with him this Christmas tree topper, doesn't he?"  Mrs. Butler folded her arms across her chest, her forehead crumpling.

"Starly."  Monica nodded, earning her a confused stare from the older lady.  "His wishing star," she quickly added.  "He believes that he can cast wishes on that little thing and they will come true…You know how kids are…But that's his little toy.  He'll get mad at you if you try to take that away from him."

"I'm very aware of that…" Mrs. Butler nodded unthinkingly.  She shook her head, thinking that they've already taken the conversation to an entirely different path now.  "Anyway…going back…my records don't indicate that he's been here…"  When a props woman passed their way, she stopped her.  "Claudia, did you happen to see James when he came in?"

The woman nodded immediately.  "Yep.  I handed him his green nametag and told him to go see you.  I even asked him where his little sister was…"

Mrs. Butler blushed hotly, embarrassed by her lack of knowledge about her casts' whereabouts.  "Oh…"

Ross noticed this, and so did Monica.  They looked at each other, but before either of them could speak again, Emma came holding her brother's Starly.

"Look, Daddy.  Madison gave me James' star and he said he found them by that tree there…"  Emma pointed to a fake plastic tree by the stage.  "But I don't know where James is…"

Upon hearing his daughter's words, Ross's heart started racing as beads of cold sweat began to form on his forehead.  He didn't want to entertain negative thoughts, but what if…

=====

"Chandler, try taking this street to the right and turn your lights up on high," Ross instructed shakily, blowing air into his closed fist as he sat in the passenger seat.  "I mean, if he got out, he would just be around here, right?"

They have been driving around the streets surrounding the auditorium for nearly three hours.  Even Joey, Mike and Phoebe were on a separate search mission across town in the opposite direction.  Still, no one could find James.

Taking his eyes briefly off the road, Chandler glanced at Ross quickly.  He badly wanted to suggest to his friend that they all just head to his home and wait for the police to call.  They had, after all, already reported James' disappearance so he was almost sure that several patrol cars were already roaming around town in search for the boy.  But, seeing how worried Ross was, he decided to keep his silence.  If he, himself, lost Daniel, he would probably do the same.

"You okay, man?" Chandler asked instead, suddenly feeling stupid knowing that Ross was far from okay.  It was another one of those sticky situations where it was just hard to find the right words to say.  At least for him, this situation was setting him up to complete wordlessness.  

"No," Ross admitted truthfully.  He shook his head, running a trembling hand on his face, and groaned.  "Ugh!  This is all my fault…"

"Relax, man.  Nobody wanted for any of this to happen…"

"Yeah…but if only I…"  Ross found himself shaking his head again, unable to finish his sentence.  _If only he didn't push Rachel away…_

Knowing where Ross was headed with his statement, Chandler commented, "But you were upset with her, though.  I don't think it would have made a difference if she came and you two were not in good terms with each other."  He glanced sideways, trying to read Ross' expression before attempting to crack a joke.  "Seriously, I'm glad you didn't bring the tension to the group.  You have no idea how relieved I was."

Ross let out a soft snort, smiling a little.  Even in the most tensioned-filled moments, count on Chandler to try to elevate the mood somewhat.

"Kidding aside," Chandler continued in hopes to strike a conversation.  "You must be really surprised to see her outside your door."

"Yeah, I was…"  Ross confessed.  "I definitely didn't see that coming…"

Chandler grinned.  "So…How'd she look like?  Still hot?"

Ross rolled his eyes.  "Yeah…" he added as an afterthought.  He didn't even need to be asked that question.  More likely than not, he was bound to answer with a yes than a no.

"So…" Chandler continued to probe.  "How are we doing now in the feelings department?  Any lingering feelings?  Feelings that resurfaced?  Conflicting feelings perhaps?"

"I don't know…"  Ross shook his head.  "I haven't forgotten what happened two years ago…I know that for a fact."

"Oh…"  Apparently, Ross still hasn't recovered from his bitterness.  "See, this proves the fact that a man's scorn is worse than a woman's," Chandler added as a joke.  "I don't know why Monica wouldn't believe me."

"Probably because it isn't true?"  Ross smiled.

Chandler shrugged his shoulders and unthinkingly went on.  "I don't know…but the other day, I was talking to my co-worker and he told me about his friend who was jailed after shooting his wife and her lover dead when he walked in on them having sex in their bed."

Ross winced, suddenly feeling uncomfortable.  Chandler's story was almost a little too familiar territory for him that he'd dare not think about it right now—not that he would shoot Rachel if he had walked in on her and Hugh.  "Can we not talk about this please?"

Chandler cast a quick, cautious glance at his friend, realizing how directly he hit a very similar, sensitive issue of Ross's.  _"Great, Chandler!"_ he silently scolded himself.  _"Just great…You just made Ross more upset than he already is."_

"Sorry…" Chandler found himself saying not too long afterwards.  "But in all fairness, Rachel did love you…so much, in fact.  Me, Monica, Phoebe, and Joey…we're all witnesses to that."

"Yeah, well…"  Ross released a derisive sigh as a response.  He looked away, turning his attention to the sidewalks.  He didn't want to talk about Rachel anymore.  Besides, he has a more pressing issue to confront.

"Can I give you a piece of advice?"  Chandler asked seriously.  "I know I'm not exactly the best adviser there is, but…"

"Go ahead."  Ross lent his attention back to his brother-in-law again.

"Well, as you all know, my parents divorced when I was 12," Chandler began wryly.  "But I'm telling you, that was the hardest thing I've ever had to deal with while growing up…You all know about how I hate Thanksgiving and everything.  So I guess what I'm trying to say is: divorce, it ain't easy for anybody.  But, I do hope before you and Rachel jump into anything so drastic, you'll take into consideration your children's feelings.  That's something my parents never did.  I mean, if they had just shown me that divorce is not all about the rift and separation, maybe I would have coped better.  True, there's still this whole adjustment period that I'd have to go through…but if only my parents remained friends before and after the divorce, I think it wouldn't have been as hard for me."

Chandler smiled weakly.  "I know Monica already gave you her take on this whole thing with you and Rachel: reconciliation.  But me?  I won't force that on you.  I just really hoped that you two could still be friends after this…"

Chandler studied Ross carefully.  Obviously, if his face were a clear indication of what he was really feeling, Ross was not ready to make peace with Rachel yet.  He wished he finally would though.  The entire gang did...still do.  It broke them to watch two of their closest friends drift apart and waste so many opportunities especially when they're so good, and perhaps better, together…with each other.  Ross and Rachel might not have had the most pleasant journey in their relationship, but they had always loved each other, which was why the gang couldn't understand why they couldn't just work things out.  When Ross and Rachel separated, the gang promised to support them with whatever decisions they'd make; but, secretly, all of them were hoping that the two still has the chance to get back together.  It just seemed right…

"Ross, I know you're probably still hurting right now…but do you think…"  Chandler paused, wondering if he should continue or not.  "Do you think you'd still be able to forgive Rachel?"

Ross looked at Chandler, but quickly looked away, lowering his gaze down on his lap.  _Could he?_  Perhaps the more important question was, _would he?_  He really didn't know.  He'd like to think that he was still capable of doing that, but at this point, he really didn't know.

Ross's cellphone rung, interrupting him before he could verbalize his response.  Without even bothering to look at the number calling, he picked it up.  "Hello?"

Chandler slowly pulled into a gentle stop.  He looked at Ross, watching his expression grew from pensive to troubled.  Ross didn't say much, but before long, he hung up the phone, a sullen expression on his face.

"What?" Chandler asked, suddenly worried.  "Who was that?"

It took Ross a while to get his words out.  In seeming shock, his gaze remained distant and fixated on the bleak road ahead.  "James…" he finally said after a long moment of silence.  "We have to drive up to the hospital.  They found my son…"

To be continued… 


	12. Wishes 11

**Wishes**

eleven

=====

"I'm stubborn... I believe..."

Ross must have heard this line millions of times before, but to hear his son say this tearfully after an already emotional night was something else.  When James said it, he heard urgency.  He heard an earnest plea of a young mind in total confusion, of an uncertain soul in need of an assurance that something good is still in store for the next day.  He heard determination, but he also heard fear and pain.

Sighing, Ross quietly shut the door after him, glad that no one was occupying the other bed in the semi-private room that James was going to be in for a few more hours.  He thought he and James could really use some privacy when they finally do talk about the matters that he needs to do some explaining on.

"Hey." Softly, he greeted, very much relieved to see his son alive and breathing.  He didn't know what he would do if anything bad had happened to James.  Thanks be to that truck driver who decided to check the carts in the back before retiring for the night.  If he didn't, who knows what might have happened to his little boy right now?  Sighing, he went on.  "How are you feeling, buddy?"

With his back still turned to him, James replied with a mere shrug and then sniffed as he croaked out a broken "Okay."

Ross sat on the edge of the bed, trying to get a sense of what James was actually feeling.  He got the impression that James didn't want to talk to him.  He went on, nonetheless, mostly just so he could fill the silence for a while.  "The doctor said that they're keeping you here for a few more hours.  After that, you're free to go home.  Are you still cold?"

"No."  James shook his head.  "They gave me that electric blanket when I first came so I'm not that cold anymore."

"I see."  Ross looked at his son, debating whether he should keep talking or stop right there.  He opted for the former.  He felt like he owed his son an explanation as well as an apology.  He knew James wouldn't have run away if he hadn't been so upset with him.  "Listen, James, about what happened earlier..."

"I only did that because I want to find Mommy and tell her to come home," James interrupted curtly, thinking that his father wanted him to explain his reasons for running away.  "I want to tell her that it's okay to do that because you didn't mean whatever you told her."

"Oh..."  Ross just mumbled, suddenly forgetting what he really wanted to tell his son.  It was the boy's honesty, or perhaps it was the sense of desperation in the boy's tone that caught him off-guard.  But, either way, what James said and how he said it stopped him from talking any further.

"She's still gonna come home, right Daddy?"  James asked, his tone softer and more pleading than his terse replies earlier.

Ross sighed and closed his eyes, taking a moment to ponder his next words carefully.  What he was about to say wouldn't be easy for the boy, but he didn't want to lie to him either, so he took his risk.  "Listen, James..."

It was a 'no,' James heard it immediately in the tone he used.  He knew his father always answered with a straight 'yes' or 'no,' but when he would take the longer route around a question, more likely than not, he was leaning toward the 'no' than the 'yes.'  Taking a deep breath, he turned his head to finally look up at his father.  With all uncertainty he was feeling, he voiced out his concern, his biggest fear since the whole bad idea of divorce entered his mind.  "Are you..." he began, his voice breaking.  "Are you gonna get a divorce too just like Madison's mommy and daddy?"

Ross smiled regretfully, realizing how unprepared he was really to answer the boy's questions.  He almost didn't want to say anything for fear that he would break his son, but he had to.  James had to know about the divorce at some point.  "Yes," he answered simply.

"Why?"  James's bottom lip quivered; his eyes, a pool of sadness.

"Because..."  Ross trailed off, unsure how he was going to explain this to his son.  His tongue was tied, and no words rational enough could make it out of his mouth to explain the whole gist of James' question.

"Because?" James implored, urging his father to continue as he wiped a tear from his face.

Ross smiled weakly, still at a loss for reason.  His real reason was complicated.  One that James might never understand.  One that even he couldn't understand fully.  Admittedly, he still had to think this through very carefully to come up with a reason that would sound convincing when he finally put it to words.  It was one of those things that a seeming solution is readily available, but the reason and logic for it is not.

"Is it because you don't love Mommy anymore?"  James went on after a while that his father remained stuck in silence.

Ross looked away and rubbed his temples forcefully.  James' questions were getting harder and harder.  Does he not love Rachel anymore?  He didn't know.  It was the one question that was almost too afraid to answer, but unfortunately the one that he must--to satisfy his son's question.  

"No, that's not it," he shook his head after a minute of careful consideration.  He knew what his answer implied; he just didn't want to think about it anymore.  He needed a quick answer, so he said that--he reasoned.  That was all there was to it.  Period.

"Then, why?"  James was confused more than ever.

_Why?_  Ross repeated the question in his head.  He really didn't know how to put his answer to words no matter how hard he racked his brains.  But, his son wanted an answer, so an answer it is he would give him.  "Because there are things that your mom and I couldn't work past on anymore..."

James remained quiet for a moment.   Nevertheless, his eyes told Ross that he was not ready to give up just yet.  "But if you still love her, don't you even want to try?"

Somehow, with each questions asked, Ross was starting to become convinced that his son was really a marriage counselor in the body of a seven-year-old.  James' questions were all but results of his thirst for explanation, but each one--though perhaps not intended--was urging him to dig deeper for answers that he himself had been trying to avoid all this time.  James' suggestion somehow made sense, but Ross also knew that some things are often easier said than done.

Sighing again, as he had been doing all evening long, he answered.  "It's--It's more complicated than that."  He smiled weakly.  Thinking it best to take control of the situation, he looked James directly in the eye and reassuringly stroked his son's hair.  "But you know, you have nothing to worry about, really."

"Mommy's not going to take me and Emma to a very far place so you can marry your girlfriend?  Because that's what's gonna happen to my classmate, Madison."

"No."  Ross shook his head, smiling at his worried son.  "That's not going to happen to you."

"How do you know that?"  came James' unconvinced, tight-lipped comeback.  "You made Mommy go away.  If you keep doing that, Mommy's not gonna want to come back and I don't want to have to choose between the two of you when she decides to go away for good."  he cried softly, fear and frustration in his eyes.  "That's what happened to Madison because his parents are divorcing and I know it's going to happen to me too."

Ross tried to calm his son, suddenly remembering his conversation with Chandler in the car: how it might be better for the kids if he and Rachel could get past this rift between them; how even if they divorce, they should at least try to remain friends.  Chandler made a good point and he was coming to realize it now.  This Madison boy, obviously had bad experience with his divorcing parents as well, and in more ways than one, he knew it was what's fueling James' fear.  James had every right to feel this way, though--he realized.  After all, he has done nothing to show the boy that things would be any different for them.  He felt guilty, but at the same time he was partly thankful that this realization came in early for him to take the necessary actions to prevent things from getting worse.  

"That's not going to happen to you, okay?"  Ross repeated firmly, convincing himself that he _should_ never let this happen again.  "I'm sorry if I made Mommy go away.  Daddy was just not thinking clearly earlier.  But that's not going to happen again."  He assured.

"You promise?"  James urged tearfully.

It had been such a long time since he made a promise to anybody, Ross realized.  Since his accident, he'd been so afraid to make one for fear that he would only disappoint when he was not able to fulfill it.  This time, though, it felt necessary--and he wanted to.  Nobody said divorce would be easy, but even if it wouldn't be, he wanted to make sure that this phase would be bearable for his children.  So, gathering up his guts that had been long buried, he put a smile on his face, and then sighed with all earnest desire to make it happen.  "Yeah.  I promise..."

=====

Rachel blinked her eyes several times as the orange light filled the conference room once again after the last projector presentation for the day.  She scrawled the last part of her notes and finally shut her folder closed, sighing as she looked up.

"Don't forget lunch, Green," spoke Tim, the friendly team coordinator she was assigned to work with, patting her on the shoulder, letting his hand linger just a little bit longer than a typical friendly pat.  Overfriendly, one might say.  "I'll meet you in the lobby downstairs in fifteen minutes."

Rachel managed to reply with a small smile to the tall, friendly guy as well as to the two other women in their assigned group who were both looking at her somewhat scornfully.  She wasn't sure if she were imagining it, but something told her that the two women's scorn had something to do with Tim's seemingly little favoritism in their small group.  "Yeah.  See you," she mumbled as she picked up her belongings, avoiding any more taxing eye contact with either of the two women.  

Within minutes, she was out of the conference room and was very well on her way down to the building's main lobby.  She let out a soft sigh of relief, staring at her own exhausted reflection in the elevator wall.

Tim.  Something told her that the man was not just interested in her ideas.  She just met him yesterday, but whenever he'd give his attention to her, he'd give it to her undivided.  This morning even, she caught him staring at her a few times.  It was flattering, really, because of all straight men working in the project, Tim is the most attractive.  He is very nice, friendly, smart, and funny too.  Then, he possesses this sweet and shy quality that's almost dorky to a certain point, which she thought was really cute.  

Likeable?  Yes.  Tim is very likeable.  Should she fall for another man again, she could always go for a guy like Tim--basing on what she knew about him so far.  But, at this point, she was simply not ready to jump into anything that even remotely resembles a dating relationship.  She should be, though--she thought.  Ross is already doing it, so why shouldn't she?

She sighed when the car reached her floor, hugging her purse and her leather binder close to her as she waited for the other uptight, smartly clad people in front of her head out to their perspective halls.  When it was her turn, she gladly stepped forward and embraced the open space ahead of her with a smile of near-relief.

Sunlight was streaming in from the solar windows, filling the lobby with a seeming sense of warmth and openness.  People were scattered about everywhere, doing their own business, but it was still fairly easy to spot what each one was doing if one was watching with an observant eye.

Then, she spotted him.

Emerging from the building's revolving main door entrance was Ross with a dark-haired beauty attached to him.  He seemed a little detached, but the woman--_Boy, does she know how to cling!_

Rachel was a little more than pissed, seeing this, with a hundred other emotions in tow.  She and Ross had barely touched on the issue of divorce, so he should not be parading his woman to her face just yet.  It was just plain mean and cruel.  If Ross ever cared for her before, he _should_ not be doing that to her face!

Feeling the need to make herself disappear, she made a run behind the large marble square column.  Clutching her things firmly to her chest, she leaned sideways to catch a glimpse of _her_ husband and _his_ woman from behind the concealment of the large plant by the square wall.  She didn't want to see Ross with another woman, but she needed to know what he was doing with her.

She winced her eyes, trying to find them, and when she finally spotted the woman's luxurious dark hair again, suddenly she wished she didn't.

He was kissing her.  Ross was kissing another woman!

"Oh God..." Rachel muttered shakily as she leaned back on the marble wall, blocking out the image from her head.  It was just the worst feeling.ever!  She badly wanted to run up to them and to tear that woman apart, but she couldn't, of course.  She wouldn't.  She had no right to do that.  Legally, she and Ross were still married; but technically, she was no longer his wife.

She closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip, forcing herself to swallow this heavy lump in her throat.  For the first time in two years, her real feelings resurfaced and she didn't deny them.  She didn't want this divorce, but he wanted it.  So she'd give it to him.  They've come to the point, she realized, where everything was probably far beyond repair.  It just makes sense to end it more than it does to stay.

Rachel squeezed her eyes tighter and let the tears trickle down her cheeks.  She didn't even want to think about it anymore.  It hurts so much to think about it.  Slowly, she opened her eyes, opened herself to reality.

Really, she should just let go.  And she would.

=====

Sitting alone on a corner table in one of the hotel's restaurant, Ross took another once and over glance and randomly scanned the many faces in the crowd.  He could have sworn he saw Rachel when he stepped inside the building.  She could have been easily someone else, considering that she was standing at least a hundred feet away from him, but somehow he was convinced that it was Rachel he saw and not someone else.  He might not have a 20/20 vision, but he'd recognize her face even if there had been a thousand other people in the crowd.

He just really wished she didn't see him with Carrie.  More specifically, he wished she didn't see that kiss that took all words out of him.  It wasn't so much the passion of it that left him speechless; it was a fairly light kiss on the lips.  He just never saw it coming--that's all.  He and Carrie just saw each other outside the building, so they came in together.  He has his own appointment in the building; she has her own lecture seminar she was so worried about since she's one of the presenters.  He gave her some words of encouragement, and as a thank you--he guessed--she kissed him.

He had to admit, the kiss felt more than just nice--but it didn't feel right.  Maybe it was just because of the whole idea of Rachel being in the same room.  Maybe it was something else.  Whatever it was, he didn't know.  It just didn't feel right.

The appearance of a well-clad, stern-faced man in his early fifties made Ross shift his attention back to his table.  Something about the man's aura spelt sound professionalism and many years of experience in his field of expertise, almost as if there was a banner flashing over his head that read, "I'm a lawyer and a pretty damn good one at that!"  Ross didn't even have to take a second look to know that this was _the_ divorce lawyer that he contacted just a couple of days ago.  He pictured him to be a little younger, but he certainly looked levelheaded as he sounded on the phone.

_This is it._  Ross swallowed hard.  Suddenly, he felt the need to run water down his throat--lots of it.  He turned, but accidentally he kicked the leg of the table that made the china teeter precariously, earning him a few displeased looks from the nearby tables.

Ross smiled faintly, feeling his cheeks flaming up as he steadied the table.  He wasn't sure why he was so nervous about this very first session with his lawyer.  He knew he wanted to hire a lawyer for this, despite the fact that he was very aware that this lawyer could possibly be just milking money from him.  He was once a lawyer himself--maybe not one in family law--but he had an idea how some of these lawyers tend to work.

"Mr. Geller?"  The smartly clad professional appeared, and when Ross stood up to acknowledge the semi-inquiry, he extended his right arm to him and introduced himself.  "Terry Neumann."

They sat, exchanging a few more pleasantries as they get themselves ready to get down to business.  Ross was already familiar with the routine: introduce, talk weather, subtly direct the conversation to whichever way the client would feel most comfortable with you, show the client that you're trustworthy and capable of handling his/her case--usually, by dropping some numbers of cases you've won--then finally, business.  It was only when they reached this point that Ross remembered just how aggressive and combative lawyers could be.  If you choose them to represent you, then they'd be out there fighting for you until your adversary drops dead.  Neumann, in particular, seemed to be the type who's out there to win and win it big at that.

"Aside from committing the 'heinous deed,' what else did your wife do?  Are you sure there was really just one man?"  Neumann joked, winking.  With an expensive pen and paper ready and an out-to-win attitude in tow, he waited for Ross' answer.

"I-I don't know."  Ross smiled wryly, not really appreciating Neumann's tone.  "As far as I know there was just one."

"Fair enough." Neumann continued.  "Does she drink?"

Ross wasn't sure where the man was headed, but he answered the question anyway.  "She does, but it isn't like she does it a lot, you know?  Parties, when our friends would invite us over to dinner and they'd serve alcohol..."  he trailed, frowning.  "I'm sorry, but how is this related to anything?"

Neumann shrugged.  "Well, we can make it appear that she has this drinking problem so you'd be guaranteed the custody of your children."  He paused to look at his scrawling on his notepad, and without wasting another breath, continued with business.  "Does she smoke?"

"What?"  Ross couldn't believe his ears.  He didn't hire a professional just so he could bash Rachel.  He was very well aware that he and Rachel could just write a mutual agreement and do the other necessary paperwork to finalize the divorce; but he hired a lawyer anyway--because he didn't think he could handle this divorce himself.  

But this Neumann guy--the man was making him think twice about hiring a lawyer.  The man was an absolute neurotic!  He had no doubt about Neumann's qualifications, that the man really did win a majority of the divorce cases he's handled.  He just really didn't like the way the man was tackling _his_ case.  Good grief!  If he retained this man's services throughout this whole divorce process, Rachel could very well just turn into dust and be blown away by the wind afterwards.  He knew for sure that Neumann was going to pound her and he's going to pound her hard until she's crushed to infinitesimal particles.

This wasn't what he wanted to happen at all...

=====

"So how did it go with the lawyer?"  Monica asked her brother without tearing her eyes off of her restaurant's inventory.

"Awful."  Ross sighed, slumping down on the booth in the far corner right next to the bar.  "He kept asking all these unnecessary questions about Rachel."

"Such as?"

Ross rolled his eyes.  "You don't want to know, but they're all unnecessary."

"He's that bad, huh?" Monica smiled weakly, looking up from her list.

"Oh, he _is_ good." Ross stated as a matter-of-factly.  "He's the kind of guy who could win your case for you."

"But?"

"But not the kind I want to use against Rachel," Ross said flatly.

Monica smiled inwardly.  This time, she was really pulled in by the conversation, so she set her list on the counter and sat on the booth opposite her brother.  "Sounds to me that someone still cares about someone more than he'd like to admit."

"Please!"  Ross rolled his eyes.

"C'mon!"  Monica urged.  "Obviously, the fire hasn't burned out completely, so use that little spark left to ignite the whole big fire thing again."

Ross sighed exasperatedly, knowing better than to argue with Monica on this one.  "Look, I'm only doing this because I don't want to upset James any further.  It's bad enough that he's so scared about this whole divorce thing.  I don't want to make things worse by adding this lawyer to the picture.  And _he_ is going to crush Rachel.  I know that much."

Monica shrugged and remained quiet for a moment.  "Well, seems to me that there's only one thing left to do."  She stood up and went behind the bar and then returned a few seconds later with the cordless phone in hand.

"What?"  Ross asked, looking back and forth between Monica and the telephone she was holding in front of him.

Monica smiled all-knowingly.  "Two things, Ross: fire your lawyer and call Rachel.  You want what's best for your kids--call their mother." 

=====

The grandfather's style clock on the hotel's main lobby indicated that it was only nine o'clock, but it felt like it was already way past midnight.  It had been a very long day--both emotionally and physically--and Rachel wanted nothing else than to hit the pillows and call it a day.

Ross.  She wondered if she should call him.  Her mother called her earlier that afternoon telling her about what happened to James the night before.  Somehow, she felt like she should confront the man.  Or kill him if anything bad happened to _her_ son.  What kind of a father is he?  He could go kissing his girlfriend all day, but taking care of _her_ son--that he couldn't do!  She was upset.  No, she was more than upset.  She was livid and burning with fury with Ross!  Of course, it didn't help that she couldn't stop picturing him with that woman from earlier.

"Hi, can I...help you?"  The receptionist winced a little, reading the rage across Rachel's face.  Something about the customer's face told her that she should watch her words very carefully, so she did.

Rachel smiled somewhat apologetically, realizing the kind of expression she must have had on her face.  She didn't mean to frighten the poor girl; she really just had a hard time controlling her emotions for that brief time lapse.  "Hi." She cleared her throat, starting with a bigger smile, on a more cheerful note.  "Any messages for me?  I'm on room 1011."

The receptionist went to the back and then came back less than a minute later with a few sheets of loose paper on her hand.  She handed them to Rachel, but the moment she placed them on top of the marble counter, the top sheet flew behind it and landed on the floor.  "Sorry about that." she grinned apologetically.  

"No problem." Rachel smiled at the hotel worker before the girl vanished behind the counter to retrieve the fallen sheet.  She checked her messages--all three of them.  They were mostly work-related stuff so she just stashed them haphazardly into her purse.

"And this one," the receptionist returned behind the counter, "is from a Ross Geller."

"Ro-Ross Geller, you say?"  Rachel stammered, making sure that she heard correctly.

The receptionist smiled and nodded, thrusting the pink slip of paper before Rachel, pointing to the name scribbled across on top.

It was from Ross, all right.  The rather child-like handwriting gave it away.  "We need to talk." the message read.  Aside from that, there was nothing else written on that small pink slip.

"Did he.did he say anything else?" Rachel urged, not quite content with the message given her.  The message just said they need to talk.  It didn't even indicate when or how they are going to do that.

The receptionist shook her head.  "No, that was the extent of what I know.  I'm sorry."

"Yeah, me too." Rachel found herself mumbling under her breath as the hotel worker went back to her work behind the desk.  She sighed as she folded the pink slip in quarters, her mind running all sorts of scenarios why Ross would want to talk to her.  She tried to stick mostly to the negative ones.  She really didn't want to get her hopes high only to have it crashing down on her again.  Lost in thought, she turned around to head for the elevators.

Then, there was Ross, walking towards her from the lobby area.

Nervously, Rachel ran shaky fingers through her hair, feeling her pulse racing hundred beats per second.  "Damn you, Ross!" she cursed under her breath.  She hated that he still has an effect on her, perhaps even more so than when they were married or even during the early stages of their dating relationship.  She hated it.  Hated, hated it.

"What are you doing here?"  Rachel folded her arms across her chest, keeping her gaze levelly and her tone as flat as possible when Ross finally stopped in front of her.  She swallowed hard and fought to keep her cool.  She really didn't want him to get the impression that she was excited to see him as she really was.  She thought he might use it to his advantage and hurt her, which was the last thing she needed.  She's so beat and she simply couldn't be subjected to any more emotional turmoil.  "Look, if you just came here to--"

"I just came here to apologize."  Ross cut Rachel abruptly, holding out his two hands in front of him as a gesture of surrender.  His tone was stiff.  Nevertheless, he meant what he said.  "I realized I was out of line last night, telling you things I probably shouldn't have.  And I'm sorry..."  His voice softened a little at his last line.

Rachel took a step back, wrapping her arms around her body, almost as if she were protecting herself from him.  Ross's face was dead serious, and his eyes spoke of his sincerity.  Immediately, she knew he meant well.  It's just that when Ross is as serious and sincere as this that he often poses an even bigger threat to her.to her emotions.  "How...how did you know that I'm staying here?" she found herself asking as she calmed down a notch, suddenly feeling her cheeks heating up.

"I-I called your mom.She told me that I'd find you here."  Ross replied hesitantly, his eyes fluttering anywhere but her.

"Oh..." Somewhat flattered, Rachel averted her gaze, forcefully dismissing the fuzzy feelings Ross's reply, his gesture, left in her tickled pink stomach.  "So, what are you doing here?" she asked again when she finally managed to pull herself together again, keeping up her unconcerned facade.  "You could have just apologized over the phone..."

Ross stared down at the floor tiles as if reading his next line from there, and when he looked up, he almost couldn't look Rachel in the eye.  He really couldn't.  He realized that Rachel still has the capability of making him feel so nervous--perhaps even more so than when they were together.  "I..." he started to stammer, but after releasing one determined sigh, he was finally able to get his words out.  "I want to talk to you..."

"Oh..."  Rachel arched a brow--confused, amused, surprised all at the same time.  "Wha-what about?" she stuttered.

"Us."

"Us?"  Rachel repeated in sheer disbelief.  It was almost as if her stomach suddenly turned inside out so that now she was having a harder time digesting things.  Ross's answer really caught her off-guard.  But somehow, she was more frightened than she was excited.  "Wha-what about us?"

=====

The night was surprisingly serene.  Ross was expecting loud honking of cars, or people yelling at each other, or at least some other forms of exaggerated city noise, but surprisingly enough, there was none of those tonight.  Admittedly, he chickened out and specifically chose a much more rowdier setting so the conversation exchange between him and Rachel could be kept minimal.  He figured, if silence ever befalls them, it wouldn't be as awkward if there was always the noise in the background to fill in the quiet lapses.  It turned out, he was wrong.  The night was awfully quiet with very minimal noise in the background.  It was almost as if the setting was actually made for talking.  As he and Rachel trod along the sidewalk, he could see that there were quite a few people taking advantage of that--mostly couples who were walking so close to each other holding hands.

"So are you ever going to tell me what is it that you want to talk about or we're just going to keep walking in the cold?"  Rachel finally broke the awkward silence between them since they left the hotel, interrupting Ross's thoughts.

"Sorry..." Ross smiled sheepishly, watching the breath he made against the wintry air rise up to the dark skies above.  It was a very chilly night; so really--he told himself--he should stop wasting time and go straight to his point.  He drew in a sharp breath, mustering up all his courage.  "Okay.  _The_ talk..."

Ross was very nervous, Rachel could tell.  But then, so was she.  This long wait she had to do to finally hear him tell her what he really wanted to talk about was far from endurable.  The awkward silence between them was definitely not helping any either.  "Yes.  _The_ talk," she echoed the uneasiness she felt.  "What- what is it about.about 'us' that you want to talk about?"  Her voice was shaking as the word 'us' rolled out of her tongue, but thankfully the cold weather could easily cover up for her shakiness.  "The divorce, I'm guessing..." she quickly added, careful to keep her tone unaffected and very casual.

"Well, yes.  That's one of them..." Ross stuffed his hands deeper into his coat pocket and continued to watch the concrete pavement.

"Okay..."  Rachel stole a quick sideways glance at Ross.  "Shoot then, I guess..."

Ross released a breathy chuckle.  "Well, for starters, I guess I can tell you that I fired my divorce lawyer..."

"You what?"  Rachel stopped on her tracks, unable to take her foot a step farther.  She was, she had to admit, very surprised to hear that.  "You fired your divorce lawyer?" she repeated, making sure that she heard him correctly before resuming her walk.  "The one that you told me you called?"

"Yes?"  Ross offered meekly, trying to read through that seeming surprised look on Rachel's face.  Whether she was pleased or confused, he couldn't tell.  It was hard to read her reaction when she was walking alongside him.

"Why?"  Rachel asked.  She had to.  Not knowing the answer was killing her.

"Well, he's expensive and..."  Ross trailed, quickly glancing at Rachel.  "He's not good enough..."

"I see..." Rachel muttered, unsure what to feel about this.  She didn't want to just ignore it, but she didn't want to be too excited over nothing either.  "So...are you going to get a different lawyer then?"

Ross was quiet for a moment.  Then, slowly, he shook his head.  "No."

"Oh..."  Rachel dropped her hands to her sides, her heartbeat racing rapidly by the second.  This time, a combination of intrigue and confusion got the better of her.

"Which brings me to the other reason why I want to talk to you..."

Rachel stopped walking and stood in front of Ross, facing him directly, prompting him to continue.

"I was thinking," Ross continued.  "Maybe we could just come up with an agreement for the legal stuff that the divorce would cover, like division of property, child custody...We're still filing for...divorce..."  He paused, carefully studying Rachel's reaction.  "Just not retaining a lawyer...unless, of course, you want to."

"Oh...no, no."  She shook her head.  What he told her wasn't exactly what she wanted to hear, but...

"I just don't want this whole divorce thing to get so messy..." Ross explained hesitantly, almost as if he didn't want to continue.  "For James and Emma's sake..."

"I know..." Rachel nodded, hoping that the extra movement would help contain her emotions before it even got the chance to surge up her throat.  "I don't want to involve them in this mess either..."

"So I thought I'd talk to you first and let you know about the change of plans..."

"Right..." Rachel smiled tightly.

A sheepish smile crossed Ross's face, but it did no justification to the tremendous awkwardness he felt inside.  "It might do the kids some good...you know, if they can see that we can still be...friends."

"Of course..."  Rachel looked away, hiding her disappointment.  "And hey, this is a pretty good first step towards the friendship part huh," she joked unsuccessfully.

"I guess..." Ross smiled weakly.  "I just want to--"

"I know..." Rachel didn't even let him get a chance to finish.  She knew what he was about to say.  "You just want to make things right..."

"Right..."

The silence was back, but it was more tensioned, more awkward.  Neither spoke for about a minute.  They just stood there right in front of each other, letting this all sink in.

Pulling her composure together, Rachel cracked a small smile--a small one, but very much real in all aspects of it.  This wasn't at all plain disappointing, she convinced herself.  They were a step closer to friendship, so that had to be a good sign, right?  They might never get back together--and perhaps they never would--but at least they could still be friends...

Slowly, Rachel's small smile curved up to one with a slightly teasing edge, pushing aside all previous feelings behind.  She really just wanted to break this tension between them, and like him, she wanted to start this friendship right.  "You're not just doing this to make up for what I _heard_ happened to _my_ son last night, are you?"

Sheepishly, Ross grinned, very much relieved that this night was not going to end up a lost cause after all.  He was almost too afraid that it would, but as it turned out, Rachel was a much bigger person that he'd actually given her credit for.  He was lucky, he thought, that she was.  If she had been someone else...

"Well?" Rachel demanded in the same feigned condescending tone, interrupting Ross's thoughts, and this time even adding an arched up eyebrow.  "Care to explain this to me?"

Ross chuckled breathily, shaking his head, deciding to ride along with her little joke--at least he was hoping that she was just kidding about being mad about this whole thing that happened to James.  "All right, you win.  You got me..."  He smiled sheepishly.  "He's all right now, though.  In fact, when I left him with the nanny this afternoon, he was already jumping up and down his bed."

"You let him do that?!?"  Rachel glared at him.

Ross jumped back.  This time, he really wasn't sure if she was just playing or this was actually real condescension now.  "Okay...Now you're scaring me."

"Well, good! Good to know that I still have a say in my children's welfare."  She tried to keep up her 'rage,' but unsuccessfully, her smile gave her away.  She couldn't help it.  Ross's reaction when he just jumped back, she thought, was rather funny.  "Seriously, you're scared of me?"

Like a frightened little boy, though this time Rachel wasn't sure if he was faking it or not, Ross nodded.

A smile found its way up Rachel's lips and she shook her head in amusement.  "Well, that's kind of good to know...I guess..."  She took a step back from him and just stared at him, at his face.  But before she started 'admiring' his good looks, she tore her gaze from him and directed it to her wristwatch.  "Well, will you look at that?  It's almost ten o'clock.  I still have an early day tomorrow.  I should go..."

"Okay..." Ross simply smiled.  "We should start walking back then..."

"Oh no, no."  Rachel shook her head.  "It's just a couple of blocks away.  I can take it from here.  You go home and tuck the babies in."

Ross smiled inwardly, finding Rachel's little gesture...too cute.  She probably wasn't even aware that she was saying these things, he thought.  "All right..." He dared not argue.  His car was parked another block away in the opposite direction anyway, and Rachel was right, he should go home to 'tuck the babies' in.  "Although, if you want, you can just walk another block with me to my car and I can just drop you off in front of your hotel," he suggested as a second thought.  He really was not very comfortable with the idea of Rachel walking back to her hotel for another two blocks all by herself.  "Well?"

"It's okay."  Rachel refused, smiling.  "Two blocks is not that far anyway..."

Ross looked behind his shoulders, checking the lighting, the people, as far as his eyes could take him before looking back at Rachel.  "Okay..."  He paused and released a soft sigh.  "Goodnight then, Rachel Green."  He smiled.  "You got pepper spray in your purse?"

Rachel rolled her eyes, inwardly flattered that Ross actually cared that she gets back to her hotel safely.  On the other hand, of course he would.  Ross cares about his friends, so really she shouldn't be surprised.  "No..." she finally replied.  "But there are tons of people walking back to the hotel so I'm sure I'm not even going to need one..."

"Okay..."  Ross nodded briefly.  "Fair enough."

Rachel smiled, looking at him for just a split-second.  "Goodnight Ross..."

"Yeah, goodnight..." Ross whispered as he watched Rachel walk away.  He watched her until she crossed the street, and when she disappeared behind a two couples walking hand in hand, he turned back on his heel with a sigh.  

Out of seemingly nowhere, a well-dressed elderly man approached him and handed him a gold cutout star.  Perplexed, Ross looked at the man, arching one brow.

"I'm sorry," the old man apologized.  "I know nothing about this, but my wife right there..."  He paused to point to an elderly woman sitting still on a bench next to a younger version of her not too far from them.  "She thinks she could predict which couples would get married.  She thinks you and your girlfriend would."  And as if she could hear him, the old man whispered his next words.  "She's got the Alzheimers so she's a little out of herself, but just take this star please.  It will make her happy."

"Okay..." Ross just smiled weakly and took the star, unsure how he suddenly got into this little situation--not that he minded, of course.

"Thank you."  The old man squeezed his hand, his gratefulness evident in his eyes.  Ross thought he saw so much more, though.  The man's eyes, his smile, told him of all the love this man felt for his sick wife.  Every line in the man's face voiced out unspoken stories of strife he and his wife went through.  The old man might never tell him all those stories, but already, Ross couldn't help but be awed by the couple.

"I know this is none of my business," the old man continued.  "But that woman who just left, is she your girlfriend?"

Ross shook his head, letting his gaze follow Rachel's direction for just a second.  Slowly, he turned to look at the stranger once more, a small smile on his face.  "No, she's my wife..."

_To be continued..._


End file.
